


one, two, three

by anyabarnes



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Anorexic Bucky Barnes, Blood, Body Dysmorphic Disorder, Break Up, Bruce Banner Is a Good Bro, Bucky Barnes Feels, Bucky Barnes Has Nightmares, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Bucky Barnes Recovering, Bullying, But not in a good way, Chubby bucky barnes, Depressed Bucky Barnes, Eating Disorders, Heavy Angst, Hurt Bucky Barnes, Hurt Steve Rogers, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Natasha Romanov Is Not A Robot, Oblivious Steve Rogers, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Panic Attacks, Protective Bruce Banner, Protective Natasha Romanov, Recovery, Self-Harm, Self-Hatred, Suicidal Thoughts, Twitter, Unreliable Narrator, Victim Blaming, bruce banner is the only sane character in this entire story jfc, bucky is really sad, except its not rlly him recovering its more like him suffering but whatever, gay slurs, in this household we love and support one (1) natalia romanov, like heeeaaaaavvvvvyyyy angst, not very tony stark positive, steve just really thinks he is helping, this is just a big phat vent fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-15
Updated: 2019-10-09
Packaged: 2020-03-05 23:53:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 30,542
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18839362
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anyabarnes/pseuds/anyabarnes
Summary: Living in a new world came with trying all the new food. He was finally in a time in his life where he didn’t need to worry about money, and he could afford so much more than just boiled cabbage. So he took advantage of that.He ate everything he could get his hands on.orBucky Barnes develops an eating disorder. Steve Rogers just wants to help.





	1. realization

**Author's Note:**

> oooooohhhh boy
> 
> ok so first off major tw for this entire fic. this is just a big vent fic because i have the Big Sad rn. 
> 
> also, i am writing from personal experience. not everyone experiences eating disorders in the same way.

Gaining weight after going through a traumatic event is completely normal. 

Gaining weight after going through 70 years of traumatic events is completely normal. 

Bucky _knows_ this. His therapist told him it’s completely normal. Stark told him it’s completely normal. Even _Banner_ reassured him. 

But he still feels terrible looking in the mirror. He turns to face the front, groaning. He had started working with Stark a couple of months ago to try and fix his little brainwashed problem. He got a newer, sleeker arm, started spending time outside, and even started seeing a therapist. Everything was going so great. 

Bucky had spent his free time exploring and trying to figure out as much about this new world as he possibly could. He explored how the city that he once knew had changed. He stopped in all the different shops, wandered all the new parks, and visited as many museums as he could. 

Living in a new world came with trying all the new food. He was finally in a time in his life where he didn’t need to worry about money, and he could afford so much more than just boiled cabbage. So he took advantage of that. 

He ate _everything_ he could get his hands on. Stark brought in doughnuts, and Bucky just couldn’t leave those last two sitting there. That would be such a waste. Natalia made blini, and Bucky felt so guilty even thinking about throwing away the leftovers, so instead, he just ate them. Steve and he went out to eat together, and Bucky could not sit there and let the waiter throw away their food. There was a time in his life where he didn’t have anything to eat, and he was not going to let this opportunity get away. He may never get to eat food again, so he should enjoy what he has while he has it. 

Bucky curses himself, pissed that he ever thought that mentality was ok. He squeezes his sides, feeling the lumpy fat between his fingers, knowing that this is all _his fault_ and that he should have noticed his _condition_ before it got to be too late. 

It is already too late. 

He’s lost the muscle definition he once had. He’s lost his sharps abs, his thick arms, and his razor-sharp jawline. Now all he has is flab. He hates that he ever let himself get this way because now he has to live with it. He has to live with the glances people give him whenever they think he isn’t looking. He has to live with the comments, the ‘oh, it’s such a shame’ and ‘how did he let himself get like that’. He has to live knowing how undesirable he has become. 

“Sergeant Barnes, Captain Rogers is approaching.” Bucky jumps back at the voice, still not use to Jarvis despite living with the A.I. for multiple months now. He scrambles to pull on a shirt, grabbing the closest item. He turns around just as Steve walks in. 

“Hey Buck,” Steve says, smiling as he rakes his eyes over Bucky. _He’s looking at how undesirable you’ve become. He is seeing all the disgusting fat clinging to your worthless body and wondering why he ever wanted to be with you. God, he probably hates you. Poor Captain America, stuck dating the fat, ugly, worthless Winter Soldier. He just pities you. You know he doesn’t really like you, right? You know he is just-_

“Natasha is finishing up dinner, so come down when you are ready. She’s making some weird Russian dish, knish maybe?” Steve gives him a kiss on the forehead and leaves the room, shutting the door tight. Bucky looks back up into the mirror, cringing. Of course Steve was looking at him. The one article of clothing he just _had_ to have picked up was one of Steve’s ubertight workout tops. One of the ones that hugged Steve’s chest perfectly and left just a little bit of room around the stomach, so if he turned to fast just a glimpse of his abs would show. 

On Bucky, it was hideous. The shirt hugged his stomach, and he could see the seams stretching to try and accommodate his disgusting fat. It fits tight around his chest too. He just feels gross looking in the mirror. He wants to rip off all the fat that holds on to him and become good again. Bucky’s chin trembles as he gazes at himself. How did he let himself go like this? In what world did he think it was ok for him to get this grotesque? 

He refuses to let himself cry though. It is his fault he is like this. He can- _no he will_ -do something about this. For himself. For Steve. For everyone. 

“Bucky! Dinner!” Steve yells for him. 

Bucky takes a deep breath in. 

Game time.


	2. wild animal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky's having a really hard time. Stark isn't helping.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> uhhh ok so this chapter was hard for me to write but i really like it. 
> 
> again tw for self harm and eating disorders and a lil bit victim blaming and homophobia (if you squint)
> 
> also, whenever there are italics using the second person that's bucky's brain being a lil bit (read: a lot) of a dickhead towards him

Bucky walks down to the common room one step at a time, trying his best to keep his breath calm and collected. After the whole ‘tight-shirt’ _thing_ , Bucky had thrown on the biggest sweatshirt he could find. It was one that Stark had gotten him for a gag-gift, with Steve’s shield plastered big on the front. Stark had gotten them matching hoodies--Steve got one with the red star on it, and Bucky got the shield. Bucky had never actually seen Steve wear it. He didn’t expect Steve to want to advertise his relationship to a fat, ugly murderer. 

Bucky shudders and shoves his hands into his pocket. He starts thinking about dinner, absolutely terrified. He knows he had to find a way to somehow not eat without any of them getting concerned. _Not that they would be concerned. They would probably be grateful that you are finally losing some weight. Maybe then they wouldn’t be so embarrassed to hang out with you. Speaking of hanging out, when was the last time any of them actually asked you to hang out first? Exactly. Steve is always so busy with ‘missions’ and ‘work’ to hang out with you. You know that is just a lie, right? He doesn’t want to be around you. He hates what you have become, he hates what you have become, he hates what youhavebecomehehateswhatyouhavebecomehehates-_

No one notices when Bucky walks into the room. _Not that you should expect them to._ Natalia is standing over at the stove, hitting Clint’s hand away whenever he tries to take a piece. Clint yells over to Sam, Natalia swatting him again for “being a nuisance”. Bucky pulls his hoodie tighter around him. He wants to disappear. 

“Buck!” Steve sees him from the coach and waves him over. “There you are. We’ve been waiting for you.” Oh. Apparently his self-loathing had taken longer than he had expected. Or maybe it was the digging through his closet trying to find a piece of clothing that didn’t make him want to kill himself. 

Bucky smiles at Steve and hopes it doesn’t come off like a grimace. It feels like it does. Steve gives him a weird look, and Bucky chooses to ignore it. He makes his way over to the table and sits down, curling into himself. He focuses on taking deep, slow breaths, itching to run his hands through his hair. It’s a technique he’s used since HYDRA made him grow his hair out. It grounds him and reminds him of when he and Steve used to sit in his mother’s living room and Steve would play with his hair. 

Those were simpler times. When he was happy. When he wasn’t _fat_. 

Natalia places the plates on the tables and whisks back into the kitchen to do who knows what. The food smells so good. Bucky’s stomach growls and he turns a bright red, looking around to make sure no one heard that. Luckily, no one noticed him. No one ever seems to notice him. 

Slowly, the team (or what’s left of the team, half the time they are on missions or working or down in labs) joins Bucky around the table. They are all talking, and loudly. Bucky can barely think between the delicious ( _fatty_ , his brain supplies) smell and the screaming of his teammates. He wants the floor to open up and swallow him. 

Natalia comes back, laying some sauces on the table. 

“Dig in,” she invites them. Immediately, five pairs of hands reach into the middle of the table, trying to grab whatever they can. Bucky didn’t notice Stark or Banner enter the room, despite them sitting right across from him. _Lousy assassin. You are actually fucking useless. Can’t even notice one of the loudest people known to man coming into the room. How are you ever going to be useful to the team? They have Clint and Natalia. They don’t need you._

Bucky shudders and looks around the table. Natalia has grabbed a reasonable portion of food, enough to sustain her but not _too_ much. So has Sam. Steve has grabbed a normal amount too, or as normal as can be for a super soldier who needs four times the amount of food as a normal human. Clint, fucking Clint, looks like he has about double what Steve has on his plate, and he looks determined to eat it all. 

“Watch out, Clint!” Stark yells from across the table. “You keep eatin’ like that and you’re gonna get _fat!_ ” Everyone laughs. Bucky’s breath is caught in his throat. _They know. You know they know. Stark is talking about you. They know how fat and disgusting you are. Maybe that’s why no one wants to talk to you. Maybe if you would lose some weight and not always just eat, well maybe then they would actually want you. Pathetic little-_

“James, are you going to eat anything?” Natalia eyes him. 

“Yeah, yeah. Sorry, was just-just thinkin’,” Bucky murmurs, not entirely sure she can hear him. He serves himself some food ( _entirely too much food_ ) and pokes it with his fork. He has absolutely no appetite, especially not with the feeling of his thighs touching each other. Bucky takes a deep breath and takes a bite. 

Fuck, it’s good. The flavor explodes on his tongue, and he just wants to eat every single morsel he can get his hands on. It’s savory and tangy and absolutely perfect. He takes another bite quickly. And another. And another. And another. And another. 

“Jesus Barnes, you look like you’ve never been fed before,” Stark laughs, nudging Banner with his elbow. Bucky’s face turns a bright red, and he puts down his fork. His hands are shaking with embarrassment. His eyes get blurry and he can’t focus on anything. He can’t breathe. He can’t breathe. The rest of the table is laughing. Laughing. _Fucking wild animal. Jesus Christ. This is why they don’t like you. You can’t even eat right. Disgusting. Pathetic. You. Can’t. Even. Eat. Right. You’re a fucking joke. Steve doesn’t want you. He’s never wanted you._

Bucky keeps his eyes downcast for the rest of the meal. No one tries to talk to him. He’s not even sure anyone looked at him after what Stark said. He knows the rest of the team thinks he is disgusting. How could they not? He’s only gone maybe seven hours without food and he is eating like a wild animal ( _you can’t go without food for that long; you have the same metabolism as Steve,_ the logical part of his brain tells him. Bucky tells that part to shut up. If he had the same metabolism, why did he get so disgustingly fat so quickly?). 

Bucky digs his nails into his thigh as they start cleaning up. Natalia took his plate without even asking him. His chin trembles. She knows something is wrong. He’s the only one left at the table. He digs his nails into his leg harder. God, you made a fool out of yourself at dinner. _That was really, really humiliating. No wonder no one tried to talk to you after that. Why would anyone ever want to talk to someone who eats like an actual animal? Looks like all of HYDRA’s work trying to tame you has been for nothing. You should really just go back to them. It’s not like the team would ever care about you. You deserve everything_. Bucky’s digging his nails into his thigh so hard he is scared he’s going to start bleeding. It hurts so bad. _You deserve_ everything _you dirty fairy faggot_. 

“Hey Bucky,” Steve lays a hand on his shoulder. His eyes are laced with concern. “You doing ok?” Bucky shrugs. Steve takes that as a sign. “Hey, it’s ok Bucky. You’re allowed to have bad days. Listen, the team was planning on watching a movie. Why don’t we go up and have just a quiet night in? Just you and me.” 

When Bucky gets out of his chair, Steve is right there with his arms open. Bucky practically falls into the embrace. Bucky can’t really tell what Steve is saying to him, but it is so sweet and soft. He doesn’t even notice it when he starts crying. _Weak. Real weak. Making Steve deal with all your problems. He doesn’t want to. He doesn’t want you._

Steve tells the team some bullshit lie about Bucky being sick, and before he knows it, Steve is leading him up to their room. He tucks Bucky in softly, wrapping the blankets around him. Steve climbs in bed and holds Bucky tight to his chest. 

“I love you, baby,” Steve says quietly. 

Bucky doesn’t say anything back. 

Bucky doesn’t feel anything but numbness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter two done! 
> 
> comments and kudos are always accepted but i don't expect them!
> 
> next chapter will be out soonish--schools almost over and that means project and final time woohoo


	3. what's wrong?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky just wants to go back to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> major tw for internalized homophobia and slurs, also ed 
> 
> not a lot happens in this chapter but at the same time A LOT happens

_Run. Run. Run._

_Bucky’s feet pound against the rough ground._

_Stomp. Stomp. Stomp._

_He doesn't know why he is running. He’s so scared. So, so scared. What’s chasing him?_

_Fear. Fear. Fear._

_What’s wrong? What’s Wrong? WHAT’S WRONG?_

_He runs into a mirror. Where is he? All he can see is darkness. His feet smack against the hard cold floor when he takes a step back. When did he get inside?_

_The mirror is broken. Stupid._

_Bad luck bad luck badluck._

_He’s so tired. Exhaustion drains his body._

_He looks up into the mirror. Fat Fat Fat Fat. His broken reflection is unrecognizable._

_No one no one no one._

_Steve’s behind him. When did he get here?_

_Bucky tries to talk to him. It comes out gurgled._

_Failure failure failure._

_“You think I would ever want you? I could have anyone in the world. I’m_ Captain America, _and you’re nothing but a speck of dust in my way,” Steve spits. Bucky can’t see his face. It’s all blurred. Steve hates him steve hates him stevehateshimstevehateshimsteve-_

_When did Stark get here? Worthless assassin._

_“I don’t want you in my tower. You stupid waste of resources. God, you eat so much! We could actually give all that food and money to a worthy cause, but instead it’s going to you and your worthless body. You killed my parents. You think I want you anywhere near me after that?” Stark laughs, the sound deep and terrifying._

_It is coming from everywhere and nowhere._

_He’s alone again._

_Alone alone ALONE ALONE._

_“Желание.”_

_No no no no nononononononono_

_“Ржавый.”_

_Please NO._

_He’s crying. When did he start crying?_

_“Семнадцать.”_

_He’s been so good so good so good what did he do to deserve this?_

_No please he’ll be good so good so good he’s been so bad so bad so bad but he can be better._

_“Рассвет.”_

_Sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sor-_

Bucky wakes up screaming. His entire body aches, and he feels more exhausted than he did when he went to bed. He just wants to go back to bed. 

He just wants to die. 

He should kill himself. 

Bucky holds back a choked sob. He wants to scream. He shouldn’t draw any attention to himself though. JARVIS will get worried and tell someone. He’s not allowed to worry anyone. _Even though they really don’t care. No one ever cares about you. Fat disgusting fairy faggot. You don’t deserve love. You’ve disappointed everyone. Worthless fairy._ Bucky takes a deep breath and looks around. Steve is gone. Probably on his run or training, because he actually wants to keep his body healthy. _Or, you know he’s probably out with someone much better than you. Skinnier. Funnier. Prettier. Not a murderer. Bucky shakes his head._

The clock reads 9:57AM, and Bucky really just wants to go back to sleep. He knows he is on dinner duty tonight, and other than that, the team won’t be looking for him. _Why would they ever go out of their way to spend time with you? Fucking pathetic, thinking anyone actually wants to be around you._ He gets up from the bed slowly, muscles aching and shoulders heavy. Every part of his body feels weighed down. Probably guilt. _Or the hundred pounds you’ve put on in the last year._

Bucky freezes. One hundred pounds? There’s no way, right? He couldn’t have gained one hundred pounds in less than a year? That’s ten pounds a month. He feels his breath speed up. His mouth goes dry. Bucky looks down at his body. His stomach stands out hideously. His thighs are gross and disgustingly big and horrible. He can feel the way his chin was sitting against his neck. _Gross fairy_. 

The second Bucky gets into the bathroom he drops to his knees. _It has to be here somewhere, it has to_. Bucky doesn’t think he ever saw Steve get rid of it. He roots around in their cabinets, pushing aside razors, shampoo, and soap to find what he is looking for. 

He holds the electric scale in his hands, it’s weight heavy and grounding. The cold metal feels smooth in his palm. 

They had gotten the scale about seven months ago. Steve was scared he wasn’t eating enough and was losing weight, so he bought the scale to make sure he was on the right track. Since, Steve had become comfortable with his new body and knew the signs of undereating. He hadn’t had to touch the scale in seven months. _Steve was able to lose weight without even trying. Imagine if he was trying. He would never let himself get to be such a disgusting weight. Steve takes care of himself. He works out, eats right, and actually makes an effort to try and look good. Unlike you. Why is he still with you? You should just break up with him to make it easier for him._

Bucky sets the scale down on the cold tile floor. He cringes at the sound of metal against tile. Bucky stands back up, towering over the scale. He catches a glimpse of his body in the mirror. His face twists in disgust as he rakes his eyes over the miles and miles of fat collecting over every pore of his body. He wants to scream. _When did you let yourself get so utterly disgusting? No wonder Steve stays away from you. He doesn’t want to be associated with such a pathetic pig. Gross. Your body is gross._

Bucky juts out his jaw and looks up to the ceiling. He can feel tears collecting around the side of his eyes. _Aw, is the pathetic little faggot going to cry? Is the little fairy going to be weak? Only weak gay men cry. Suck it up and deal with life. Pathetic._ He steps on to the scale, fists clenched. 

Blink. 

Blink. 

Blink. 

Bucky’s eyes aren’t focusing when the numbers pop up. 

_264._

264\. 264. Two-hundred and sixty-four. Minus fifteen for the arm. 249. Two-hundred and forty-nine. He weighs two-hundred and forty-nine pounds. 

Bucky feels like he’s going to throw up. 

He’s disgusting. 

He’s going to be sick. 

_No you’re not. Suck it up. You did this to yourself._

He weighed 201 pounds when he first starting living in the tower ( _you were severely underweight at the time, you were working out so much and HYDRA wasn't actually feeding you enough_ , the logical part of his brain tells him; Bucky chooses to selectively not hear it, he doesn’t deserve the reassurance). 

He’s gained 48 pounds. Forty-eight. That’s five pounds a week. 

Bucky feels light-headed. 

_Disgusting faggot._

He doesn’t have the energy for this. 

Bucky decides to go back to bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok, so i just want to clear up two things:  
> 1) bucky has bdd. he does not know what he actually looks like. he cannot tell what he actually looks like. if you want to see what he looks like, go to https://bodyvisualizer.com/male.html and change the height to 73 inches, weight to 249 lbs, and exercise to 14 hours a week.  
> 2) bucky's not actually homophobic. that's his not-nice-brain-voice.
> 
> also, kudos and comments are always appreciated! i love hearing what you think of the story and how you want it to progress!  
> your input is always valued, even if it is something super small.   
> i love you all. go eat something if you haven't. go drink something. take care of yourselves. <3


	4. deserving

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky cannot catch a break.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok wow boy this chapter is rough
> 
> big big tw for eating disorders, self harm, and self hatred
> 
> i love u all and please stay safe. this is a pretty rough chapter so please do not read this if your mental health is not great <3

_259.3_ , the scale reads. 

_You only lost five pounds. It’s been a fucking_ week _. With your metabolism, you should have lost so much more. Jesus, this is why Steve doesn’t want you. He’s been spending all that extra time ‘training’ just to get away from you. You are such a burden._

Bucky lets out a shaky breath as he steps off the scale. Carefully, he places the scale back in the cabinet right where it was originally. Though he knows Steve won’t notice the scale slightly out of place, there is this tiny part of his brain that is absolutely terrified of anyone finding out about his _thing_ , especially Steve. He, under no circumstances, can burden Steve with _any_ of his problems. 

Bucky gets dressed quickly. He has a stupid press conference he has to go to because someone did something and now the public wants all the Avengers ( _even though you aren’t really a part of the Avengers; you are just a fuck-up they picked up on the way_ ) to say sorry or something pointless like that. He hates press conferences. Everyone stares at him for too long. They yell at him. It gets too loud. Too loud. Too loud too loud too loud too loud tooloudtooloudtooloud- 

Bucky digs his nails into his legs sharply, drawing him back to the present. He looks down to see like crescent marks filling with blood. He sighs and grabs a tissue, harshly wiping the blood off. Those marks have become more and more frequent, new ones appearing on his legs every day. _You deserve pain. You should have never been rescued from HYDRA. Maybe then the Avengers wouldn’t have to deal with such a burdensome fairy faggot taking up so much room with his fat ugly body. It’s the least you can do, really. You deserve to feel as much pain as possible. You’re helping others by hurting yourself. It’s a small tradeoff, really._

Bucky does a quick check in the mirror to make sure his outfit hides everything. Of course, it doesn’t. He can still see his grotesque stomach fat pushing against his black sweater, but there is no way he has time to change, and he certainly is not going to find something that will flatter his atrocious body anymore. Begrudgingly, he decides his outfit will have to do. 

Bucky lets out a quiet groan as he sees the flashy car-more like limo-parked out in front of Stark Industries. People are staring at it ( _they are really staring at you and your disgusting fat body_ ). Bucky wants to curl up into a ball and die. 

“Hey! Buckaroo! Get in before we leave without you!” Stark calls. Sighing, he climbs into the vehicle, silenting wishing they would just leave without him. Guilt bubbles up in Bucky’s throat. _You made them wait for a fat fuck like you. You made them waste their time just so you could spend time looking in the mirror at your disgusting body. You’re so selfish. Pathetic._

Choosing the seat in the corner, Bucky nestles his body as tight against the wall as he can. If he can’t be thin, then he will take up as little room as possible. He’ll be as low maintenance as he can possibly be. _Maybe then people will actually want to be around you._

The noise level in the limo is way too high. Clint and Scott are sitting across from each other yelling. Stark keeps trying to join the conversation, screaming his input whenever necessary. Sam and Steve are trying to talk over the noise level, but in turn, just making everything louder. Bucky takes a deep breath, trying to fight back the rising panic. 

He hates noise. The screaming and yelling and talking is too too much. 

Bucky bounces his leg up and down. Up and down. Up and down. Something, anything, to distract him. Up and down. Up and down. 

The sides of the limo are lined with food and drink galore. Bucky shivers. He hopes no one notices it. He begs to every deity no one offers him any. _Why would they? They can all see how fat and disgusting you are. They can all tell what a monster you are. No one wants to be held responsible for that._

It’s almost like the higher powers are working against him. Of course, just as he notices the food, Clint reaches for it. 

Up and down. 

Clint rips open into a bag of chips with as much noise as he possibly can. He reaches his hand into the bag, rubbing his disgusting germs on what seems like every single chip, before pulling out a literal handful and shoving them all in his mouth. 

Bucky wants to throw up. 

Up and down. 

Scott joins in., shoving his hand down into the bag next to Clint’s. When it comes out, the light catches on the thick patches of grease covering both their hands. Bucky can practically smell the calories from here. 

Up and down. 

“Jesus Barton! You are practically asking for obesity! Those things have so many calories in them you could practically feed a small village for a week!” Stark grabs the bag from their hands, the plastic crinkling. Bucky can see the grease patches reflecting in the dim light of the limo. 

“Wait, let me see the bag,” Steve asks, holding his hand out. Bucky watches as Steve furrows his brows, face scrunching up as he reads the back of it. “150 calories for 10 chips?! No wonder America is having an obesity issue. These things could just ’bout kill you if you ate enough of ‘em.” Steve tosses the bag back to Clint and Scott, both of them laughing. 

“Oh, like that’ll ever happen!” I’m not one of those fat fucks who let themselves get disgusting. I actually, ya know, care about my body,” Clint says, laughing. 

_Fat fuck._

_Fat. Fuck._

_You let yourself get disgusting._

_Fat fuck._

_Steve thinks you are obese._

_You_ are _obese._

_Fat fuck._

_Fat fuck._

_Disgusting._

_Asking for it._

_Fat fuck._

_Fat fuck._

_Fat fuck._

_Fat fuck._

_It’s all your fault. Everyone knows it is. You let yourself get like this. Don’t even pretend like you are upset. You did this to yourself. Fat fuck. You don’t deserve love. You should’ve died when you fell off that train. You should kill yourself. Do you know how easy it would be to just kill yourself? Everyone’s lives would be so much easier if you would just do it. Do it. Kill yourself. Kill yourself. Fat fuck._

Bucky digs his nails into his leg harder. Harder. Harder. _You don’t deserve love._ Harder. Harder. He is so happy he wore dark jeans. Harder. Harder. _You don’t deserve love._

“Come'on Bucky. We’re here,” Steve says softly, helping the man up. The second they step out of the limo, lights are flashing. All around them. All around them. All around them. 

“Hey, hey. It’s ok. I’m here. Focus on me. That’s it, there you go. You’re doin’ so good Buck, so good. ‘M here. That’s it,” Steve says quietly, pulling Bucky tight into his side. Bucky breathed in deeply, relishing the strong scent of Steve’s cologne. The smell of safety. 

Bucky wraps his arms tight around himself, trying to block all of the people surrounding him. He hates noise so much. So so much. It’s so loud. Too loud. So much. Too much. Too loud too loud too loud too loud so much so much so much- 

Bucky can finally breathe when the doors close behind him. Steve loosens his grip and Bucky moves away quickly. _Jesus Christ, you are a disgusting fairy. So predatory. Steve doesn’t want you. He thinks you are creepy. He thinks you are manipulative._

They have no time to process where they are before security guards whisk the team into a room. The air is thick and stuffy, and Bucky immediately wants to leave. There is a door on the far side, and Bucky can hear the noise of reporters through the heavy piece of wood. There is food set up in a buffet line. Bucky moves to the other side of the room as fast as he can. 

He doesn’t deserve to be near food. 

After about five minutes, the door to the conference room is opened. The team slowly filters in, standing up on a raised platform at the front. Bucky shoves his hand deep into his jean pockets. He folds into himself. He wants to go home and sleep. He’s so tired. He’s always tired. 

Tony steps forward and starts talking. The words bubble past Bucky’s ears, and he can’t hear anything. It feels like he’s underwater. He keeps his eyes locked on his scuffed shoes. He focuses on Steve’s body heat, his muscular arm pressed against Bucky’s. _Not that you are muscular, you’re just kinda fat. Not even kinda. You’re fat. Everyone can see it too. Everyone is looking at you right now. They think you’re disgusting. They are all laughing at you. Right now. They hate you. Why are you even here?_

The warm heat suddenly leaves the side of his body. Bucky looks up at Steve makes his way up to the podium. Tony walks back, standing in the spot where Steve once was. Bucky moves away from him. 

Steve talks exactly the way fights: hard, strategical, and with no mistakes. His voice fills the room in a way Bucky has never heard. It makes him feel calm. It makes him feel safe. 

Bucky scans the audience as Steve talks, gauging their reactions. Bucky has no idea what issue they are talking about today, but just listening to the familiar rhythm of Steve’s voice keeps him calm. His eyes catch on different faces, none of them sticking out to him. 

He drums his fingers against his thigh. 

He can feel the fat sitting under his skin. How it ripples when he touches any part of his body. It _disgusts_ him. 

You hear what Steve said. How could he ever want such an obese fuck _? How could he ever want someone like you? You are disgusting. You don't care about your body. You let yourself get this disgusting. And now here you are, in front of_ everyone _, showing off how gross you look. Steve is disgusted. He doesn't want to be around you. He doesn't want to be seen next to you._

_Steve doesn't love you._

_Steve has never loved you._

_Steve is disgusted by you._

_See all those reporters? They're all laughing at you._

_At how fat you are. At how gross you look._

_Steve is_ ashamed _to even be near you._

Bucky feels his throat tightening. Everything is so hot. 

His sweater is scratchy against his throat. 

It's too much. 

It's too much. 

It's _too_ much. 

_It's too much!_

He can’t breathe. 

He can’t breathe. 

He can’t breathe. 

He can’t breathe. 

Why can’t he breathe? 

He can’t breathe. 

When did he get on the floor? 

_Pathetic._

He can’t breathe. 

He can’t breathe. 

Who’s screaming? 

He can’t breathe. 

His throat is scratchy. 

He’s screaming. 

Why? 

Why? 

WHY? 

Screaming. 

Too loud. 

_SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP!_

Too much. 

Hair. 

Pull. 

Thighs. 

Scratch. 

Hurt. 

Need hurt. 

Need to hurt. 

_YOU DESERVE IT. YOU DESERVE EVERYTHING._

Scared. 

So, so scared. 

HE CAN’T BREATH. 

WHY CAN’T HE BREATH? 

WHERE IS HE? 

WHERE IS HE? 

WHERE IS HE? 

Can’t breathe. 

Can’t breathe. 

Too much. 

No more. 

He’ll be good. 

So good. 

He’s a good boy. 

He’s a good boy. 

He’s a good boy. 

What’s that noise? 

He’s a good boy. 

Smell. He smells something familiar. 

Hold on. Hold on. 

“You’re okay Bucky. I’ve got you.” 

Bucky lets out a loud sob. His hands are pulled away from his thighs. 

“Let it out, let it out.” 

He holds on tight. 

Soft. He’s holding on to something soft. 

Smells so good. 

Smells so safe. 

So calm. 

Smells like- 

Smells like Steve. 

Steve. 

Steve. 

Steve! 

“Stevie,” Bucky pulls on his shirt tighter. 

Safe. 

Safe. 

Safe. 

_YOU DON’T DESERVE SAFETY._

No no no no no no no no no no no no nonononono- 

“I got you Bucky. You’re safe. You’re here with me. You’re safe. I got you,” Steve whispers. Bucky feels fingers being run through his hair. 

Safe. 

Safe. 

Safe. 

He’s safe. 

Stevie’s got him. 

He’s going to be ok. 

It’s going to be ok.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i hope this chapter makes up for the little bit of wait! this is also longer because school is vv rough and i am going through things with my friends and shit so i might not have a lot of time to write but ill try
> 
> i love u all. please go grab a snack, get a drink, and get up and take a small break <3 you deserve it <3


	5. humiliation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruce is worried. Bucky wants him to stop.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter is three-thousand words long o.o (that's how much i luv u all :D)
> 
> tw in the tags
> 
> one thing i really want to emphasize the migration from bucky's nasty head voice to bucky's real thought process. pay attention to it please.

The soft sound of Steve singing is what wakes Bucky up. He hears the melody, quiet and beautiful, and the words, soft and sweet. They run through his head, making him forget about any of his worries. Steve’s chest rumbles underneath his head, tickling him. 

Bucky lays as still as he possibly can, evening his breathing to match what it would be when he sleeps. He bathes in the warmth of Steve’s body, not daring to move in case Steve realizes he’s awake and stops singing. 

_Steve doesn't love you._

_Steve thinks it is pathetic he even had to deal with you._

_Disgusting faggot._. 

Bucky lets out a harsh sob as his memories flood back. Steve hold him tighter, still singing. He curls into Steve’s side, crying into the man’s shirt. He sobs louder, trying to find the melody again. He can’t. He’s lost it. 

Steve seems to realize this and starts to sing louder. Bucky can feel it again, the rumbling and the breathing. He knows Steve is here. He knows Steve is here. Bucky reaches down to scratch his thighs. He needs it. He needs the pain. He’s been bad, bad, bad. He deserves it. 

“Hey, hey, sweetheart. None of that. You’re okay. I’ve got you,” Steve pulls Bucky’s hands into his, holding them tight to his chest. Bucky can feel his heart beating. 

“No, no, no, no-need it, need it, need it,” Bucky murmurs, turning his face into Steve’s side again. He’s still crying. 

“No you don’t. You don’t need to hurt yourself. You’re okay. You don’t need to hurt yourself ever, Bucky baby. You don’t deserve the pain. You don’t need it, either. I got you baby. You’re so good. I love you so much,” Steve says, pulling him and Bucky up into a sitting position. Bucky feels Steve start to rock back and forth, rubbing his back as if he were a baby. Bucky’s sobs have quieted down, and his head is clearing up. He focuses on Steve’s heartbeat--strong and powerful and _safe_. 

Bucky tries to slow his breathing down to match Steve’s. He matches the soft rise and fall of his chest, trying to block out everything but _Steve_. He focuses on the cold air rushing into his nose and the warm air rushing out. He focuses on the way his heartbeat feels in his ears. 

The door opens softly, and Bucky hears someone come in. He feels his face flush bright red and tries to hide from whoever just walked in. 

“Hey Steve. Is he awake?” It’s Banner. 

“Yeah. Woke up about ten minutes ago, but he’s been asleep since the conference,” Steve responds. He rubs his hands up and down Bucky’s back. Bucky turns his face out but keeps his eyes downcast. 

He feels humiliated. He made an absolute fool out of himself in front of _everyone_. He knows that, by now, the clips and stories will be all over the news. It’s his fault. _Of course, it’s your fault. You couldn’t have just reacted normally. Faggot. Everyone thinks you’re weak. The press will have a field day with this one. Maybe now the Avengers will actually drop you. They have a reason to. You have clearly just shown you’re the weakest link. You’re not needed. Why do you think Banner is here? They don’t want you anymore. No one wants you._ Bucky sighs, folding his arms over his chest. If they are going to drop them, he just hopes they do it quickly. 

“Hi Bucky,” Banner says, squatting down to talk to him face-to-face. “Do you think we can talk? It’s totally okay if you don’t want to.” Banner smiles softly. Bucky nods. He knows he has no right to refuse Banner. Bucky’s the one getting kicked off of the team. 

“Do you want Steve here or no? Either way, it is completely fine,” Banner says, looking up to make contact with Steve. Bucky looks down. He doesn’t want Steve in the room to witness Banner telling him he has to leave. That would be utterly humiliating, and he under no circumstances wants Steve to witness that. Steve would be so disappointed in him. 

“I-uh-I don’t think I-uh-I don’t want Steve here. Sorry,” Bucky says, staring off into the corner of the room. Steve stands up and kisses the side of Bucky’s head. 

“I’ll be in the den if you need me. I love you,” He looks at Bucky, smiles, and then shuts the door. Banner gets up and pulls a chair over to the side of the-bed? Bucky looks around, just now processing the fact he is back in his own room. Or, their room, because he and Steve both sleep here. _Not that it will be ‘our room’ anymore. Once you’re off the team Steve is going to kick you out. Steve doesn’t want you around any more than you already are. You’re such a burden on him. He just wants to get rid of you and actually find a partner who doesn’t require constant supervision. He wants to find a partner who isn’t a dirty, fat assassin. If only he knew the things you had done. He would have never even_ touched _you. Disgusting._

“Do you think you could talk to me about what happened this morning at the conference? I just want to make sure you are completely okay,” Banner says, pulling his sweater around his hands. Bucky swallows. He wasn’t expecting this. 

“I don’t really know. I thought-I just uh- I thought I saw someone from-someone from HYDRA. I just freaked out. It’s no big deal. It’s not important,” Bucky lies. He knows he shouldn’t worry anyone. He has no right to pretend like anyone actually cares about him. 

“Bucky, I don’t think that was just a freak-out. From what it looked like, I believe you just experienced a really, _really_ bad panic attack. Steve and I are worried about you,” Banner says. He holds eye contact with Bucky, trying to gauge the man’s reaction. Bucky shifts uncomfortably. He doesn’t know what Banner is trying to do. There is no way either of them is actually worried about him. It has to be a joke or something. Or maybe Banner is just leading up to kick him off the team. Bucky wouldn’t be surprised. 

“ ‘Shouldn’t be. “M fine,” Bucky mumbles. He knows Banner can’t hear him. _You don’t deserve their sympathy. You don’t deserve their love. You don’t deserve any happiness. Everyone would be better off without you. Disgusting freak. Worthless. You don’t deserve anything but pain. You don’t deserve to feel anything good. You’re a waste of space and of life. You should just kill yourself._

_You should just kill yourself._

_Kill yourself._

He should kill himself. It would make everyone’s lives easier and happier. He’s just a waste of time and energy. Worthless. 

“Bucky, Steve and I are also worried about another thing. We don’t know if you are doing it on purpose or what, but we are scared you might be . . . self-harming,” Banner trails off, looking down at his hands. Bucky scoffs. 

“Self-harming. Yeah right. Listen, Doctor Banner, there is no way in hell I could be self-harming. I’m not weak enough to take a fucking razor blade to my arm. I may be pathetic, but I’m not that pathetic,” Bucky snarks. Once he sees Banner’s reaction, he immediately regrets it. Banner slumps down in his chair, bringing his hands up to his eyes. His ears are tinged red. 

“Self-harming isn’t always cutting yourself. It can be burning, it can be forcing yourself to throw up, and it can most certainly be _scratching_ yourself, especially to the point of bleeding,” Banner says. He sighs and pulls himself back up into the chair. Bucky studies the pattern of the carpet. _Wow. You’re fucking disgusting. Gross. Banner is obviously hurt by that bullshit statement you just said. You’re such an asshole. You don’t deserve love or attention. You should take a fucking razor blade to your arm. Maybe then you would be actually doing something productive. Useless. You should kill yourself._

Maybe he should hurt himself. Not badly. Just enough to punish himself. 

Bucky, we’re just worried about you. Please know you can talk to anyone on the team if you want. Doctor-patient confidentiality always exists between us, so please talk to me if you need to. I care about you and I want you to be happy,” Banner gets up and places the chair back in its spot. 

“Thank you, Doctor Banner. I’m sorry,” Bucky says. He feels drained. He always feels drained. 

“You’re welcome Bucky, but you have nothing to say sorry for.” He puts his hand on the door. “And also, you can call me Bruce. There’s no need for formality; we’re friends.” He leaves the room and shuts the door softly. Bucky can hear Steve and Bann-Bruce talking outside. 

_They’re on to you. You need to be better. You are burdening others with your useless problems. Useless faggot. Disgusting. You’re such a freak. No one wants you. You need to lose so much weight. So much. Maybe then you’ll actually be worth something._

Bucky falls back on the bed, huffing. He’s so tired, and he wants to cry. 

Steve comes into the room and lays down next to him. Steve traces figures softly over Bucky’s chest. _He can feel all your fat. He probably can’t even feel your heartbeat under all of that disgusting fat. Fat fat fat. That’s all you’ll ever be. Useless fairy._ Steve’s started humming again, quiet and under his breath. Bucky tries to follow along with the tune, quieting all of his thoughts. 

“It’s Tony’s turn to cook tonight. I can grab you a plate and bring it up or we can go down and eat together. Either way is entirely fine with me. What would you be most comfortable with?” Steve asks, placing his head right above Bucky’s ribcage. Bucky thinks for a second. He doesn’t want to confront the team in any way, but he knows if makes Steve go get him food he’ll be 

“We can go eat with them.” 

“Are you sure?” Steve looks up at Bucky. “You really don’t have to do it if you feel uncomfortable. I would feel perfectly fine just staying up here and hanging with you.” 

“Really Steve. We can go eat with them. I’m sure,” Bucky says earnestly. _You shouldn’t burden Steve. Just go down and don’t do anything. Don’t say anything. Don’t touch anything. Especially don’t eat anything. Be as low maintenance as you possibly can be. Maybe then they will like you._

Steve helps Bucky up, pulling him into a tight hug when Bucky stands up. 

“I’m so proud of you Bucky. Really,” Steve says. 

Bucky doesn’t say anything in return. 

They make their way down to the kitchen. Bucky can smell the pungent garlic and warm bread the second they step out of the bedroom. It makes his stomach shrivel up. _After that stunt you pulled, you really don’t deserve to eat. Not that you ever did. But now especially. Food is a privilege, never a right. You have to earn it._ They make their way down to the dining room, the noise level increasingly getting louder. Bucky’s head hurts. He wants to go back to bed. 

Bucky sits down on a couch as far away from the rest of the team as he can be. Be low maintenance. He can smell whatever it is that Stark is cooking-pasta maybe?-and he wants to throw up. There is no way in hell he deserves to eat anything at all. He’s a fuck-up, and fuck-ups don’t eat. Everyone knows that. _Good boy. You’re beginning to learn. You don’t deserve food. You’ve never deserved food. Fuck-up._

Bucky shudders. He knows he has to eat something, or else Steve is going to be concerned. He is not allowed to worry anyone on the team. They cannot figure out anything. He needs this. He needs to punish himself. He murdered people for 70 years straight. He doesn’t deserve love at all. He’s never deserved love. He should have died when he fell off the train. He should have died right then and there. Then Steve would never have to worry about him. Steve would never have to even pay attention to himself. He could go on with his life: find a cute, _skinny_ boyfriend, settle down, and not have to pay attention to that boyfriend’s problems. 

“Food’s ready!” Stark calls from the kitchen. Bucky manages to drag himself up from the couch and take a seat at the table. He’s sitting across from Stark and next to Clint. His two favorite people. Stark lays down the food on the table. A giant, heaping serving of pasta is put on his plate as Stark dishes out the meal. Bucky feels sick just looking at it. It’s so, so many calories. He can see the grease shining on the food, reflecting off the bright lights of the dining room. He can see the butter on the garlic bread weighing the center down. It is pooling in the middle. The pasta is thick, and there is so much of it. There is so much of everything. 

He picks of his fork slowly, twisting the pasta around the prongs. He brings it up to his mouth slowly. _Make sure you don’t get any pasta on your face. You wouldn’t want to look more like a fool than you already are. Fuck up._ He bites down on the noodles. 

Fuck. It’s good. 

He goes in for another bite but decides against it. He knows he needs to eat slowly, so it looks like he has eaten more than he actually has. If he eats quickly and then stops suddenly, people will notice. He can’t have anyone noticing. 

“Jethuth Chrith, Tony. Thith ith tho thucking good,” Clint moans, mouth full of food. Bucky watches as pasta sauce drips off his chin and flies out of his mouth. It’s disgusting. 

“Did your mother not teach you anything? Have some manners Barton,” Sam says. Clint laughs, throwing his piece of garlic bread at the man. He misses. 

“Yeah! My momma gave me off to the circus when I was little! Guess you don’t learn much from bearded-ladies and ringmasters!” Clint yells, laughing. The rest of the team laughs, too. Bucky ignores the fact he has to fake it. He has to fake a lot nowadays. 

“What’s wrong with my food, Buckybear? Do you not like it? I’m offended.” Stark puts his hand up to his heart in mock offense. Bucky doesn’t know how to react. Everyone is looking at him. He can feel his chins pressing together. _They think you look ridiculous. This is why Steve wants to leave you. You can’t even pretend that you like Stark. You’re so fucking rude. You’re so fucking gross. Disgusting. Pathetic. Faggot. You’re worthless. Absolutely worthless. They’ll be happy when you kill yourself. They’ll be happy when they no longer have to worry about him._

“Just not that ‘ungry,” Bucky says and shrugs. He twirls his fork around in his pasta, moving it around. Maybe if he plays with it enough the team will think he’s eating. _But then you’re wasting it. You’re wasting so much food. That’s so disgusting. There are people who don’t have food and you are wasting it all because you ‘don’t wanna eat’. Pathetic. You’re a waste of air. Kill yourself. Kill yourself. It would do no worse if you just took all the pills in the medical cabinet. No harm at all._

“Is it because of your freakout?” Stark asks, leaning over into the center of the table to grab another piece of bread. “Because trust me, I would be embarrassed by that, too. It’s all over the news. And twitter. Do you know that hashtag-weaker-soldier is trending? Terrible word play, by the way. It’s hilarious, the news got all these videos-” “

Anthony Edward Stark. Shut the fuck up right now,” Natalia sneers. Her jaw is locked, and she looks like she just sucked on a lemon. Stark immediately reacts, sitting back in his chair sharply. Bucky takes a deep breath. 

Of course, his little ‘freak-out’ was on the news. He wasn’t surprised by that. He was in a room full of reporters, who were all filming at the time it happened. He was surprised that Twitter had gotten his hands on it. He had heard Stark mention the platform once or twice, so he had signed himself up for an account. Shortly after, he realized how much he did _not_ want to be involved with social media. 

But now he is trending? The weaker soldier? Stark is right, and even though it is a terrible play on words, it still fucking hurts. He knows how many people are on those platforms, so he knows how many people must think he is weak for the idea to become trending. The thought stings. 

The rest of dinner passes quietly, and no one says much. Bucky and Steve head right up to bed after. Steve hugs him and kisses him tightly before he goes to bed, falling asleep quickly. Bucky waits for Steve’s breathing even out completely before he pulls the tablet out from the bedside table. Punching in his password, he opens the device and quickly turns down the brightness. Grabbing his headphones, he sneaks out onto the balcony connected to the room. 

He settles down in one of the chairs, popping his headphones. He taps on the blue icon, taking a deep breath. 

It’s going to be a long night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ahhh ok so this chapter, the last one, and the next chapter were all supposed to be one chapter (i planned out this like four thousand words ago and it is turning out so much longer than it thought it would)  
> also i have gotten requests to do longer more spread out chapters, so i hope this is ok with everyone  
> i'm going through some really hard times and kinda dont have friends right now so chapters will be coming out probably a lot faster than they would (writing is my coping mechanism)
> 
> i luv u all so much. go get a drink. if it is night time go to sleep please. go eat a small snack if you havent. you matter a lot and you deserve the world <3


	6. outside opinion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky discovers twitter. He quickly regrets it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter is rough (i feel like i say that every chapter, but really, this one is rough)
> 
> tw for bullying, slurs, internalized homophobia, ed, self-harm, implied rape (not between steve and bucky-there will never be rape between them), panic attacks
> 
> please take care. this story is not more important than your mental health.

The screen lights up a bright blue, before turning a stark white. A loading sign is displayed on the screen before tons of little boxes pop up, each saying something different. It doesn’t take Bucky much scrolling before he finds what he is looking for. Right there, on the side of his feed, is the trending box. 

#theweakersoldier is number one on trending. There are 31k tweets using the hashtag. With a shaky hand, Bucky taps the button ( _you’re making a mistake, this isn’t going to help anything_ , the logical side of his brain tells him. Bucky doesn’t care. Bucky needs to read this). 

The tweets pop up, one by one, and Bucky suddenly does regret doing this. 

@iluvir0nman 

jesus. i knew barnes was way to fucking weak to be with the avengers. @IronMan kick him out. hes just holding u all back… #theweakersoldier #stevedeservesbetter 

@greennotmean 

Bucky Barnes is the biggest mistake the Avengers have made since 2012 #theweakersoldier 

@senddogpics 

Imagine being so weak you can’t be out in public for more than ten minutes LMAO my fav could NEVER #theweakersoldier 

@steverogersforpresident 

Poor Steve. He has to put up with that hot mess all the time. #theweakersoldier #dumphim #stevedeservesbetter. 

@ChristineEverhartOfficial 

Breaking! Bucky Barnes freaks out in public! Is it the Winter Soldier coming out? Are the Avengers safe? #theweakersoldier 

@ellaromanoff 

bucky could afford to lose a few pounds… he looks kinda fat in every photo i’ve seen of him...why does steve even stay with him? he could have anyone, but instead he stays with that dumpster fire #theweakersoldier 

@puppydogrogers 

lmao imagine having to put up with that mess every single day. no wonder steve is always on ‘missions’ lol. wouldnt be surprised if hes cheating. i would too #stevedeservesbetter #theweakersoldier 

@ironmanstan 

WTF is wrong with Bucky? Like can he not handle be out in public for more than three seconds? He was more useful when he was with HYDRA. #sorrynotsorry #theweakersoldier 

@AvengersNews 

Bucky Barnes Freaks The Fuck Out! #theweakersoldier LMAO! 

There is a video attached to the last tweet. Bucky taps on it and turns the volume up. It is a shot taken from right in front of the stage. Bucky watches as Steve walks up to the podium and starts to talk. His eyes dart back to himself, and it’s surreal. He watches himself scoot away from Stark. _You look so fat in these videos. It’s actually disgusting_. He watches himself, seeing how his fat moves and jiggles every single time he moves. He watches as he drums his fingers against his leg, seeing the fat move under his fingertips. 

On-screen Bucky lets out a cry, crumbling back against the wall. His knees collapse and he falls backward, scrambling to try and be as small as possible. On-screen Steve whips his head around, and Bucky can hear him gasp through the noise of the reporters. He rushes over to on-screen Bucky, pushing Stark out of the way. 

Bucky cringes as he listens to himself cry, the words unintelligible. On-screen Bucky starts to rake his nails down his thighs, over and over again. Steve starts to realize something is wrong and tries to shield Bucky’s body from the reporters. _Not that he would be able to shield you from them. Look, you can still see your fat legs and your fat arm and your fat face. Look at how fucking ugly you are. You don’t deserve Steve. Everyone is right. Steve deserves better. You should just break up with him and make everything easier for the both of you. Maybe if you did that people would actually like you._

_Break up with him._

_Everything will be easier if you just break up with him._

_He doesn’t want you._

_You’re doing him a favor._

Bucky’s going to break up with Steve. 

He doesn’t deserve the love that Steve gives him. Steve puts so much into the relationship and Bucky, well, Bucky doesn’t. Bucky drains the relationship. It would just be better for everyone if he broke up with Steve. Steve could find a newer, cuter, _skinnier_ boyfriend. One that he wouldn’t have to invest so much time and energy into. One that wouldn’t be such a burden. 

Bucky shakes his thoughts off, looking back to the video. On-screen Bucky is picked up by Steve, clutching his shirt so tight Bucky’s surprised it’s not ripping. Steve holds him tight, pushing through the other Avengers who have crowded around Bucky. The video ends right as Steve goes through the heavy wooden door. 

Bucky puts the tablet down on his lap, taking a deep breath in. He feels so fucking humiliated that he ever let himself be that _weak_ out in public. He knows Steve is embarrassed by him. _Yeah, but once you break up with him he won’t be embarrassed by you anymore. He’ll be able to find someone more interesting and fun. Someone who he can actually like. Someone who’s not a disgusting, fat, faggot._ They are all right. Steve does deserve better than him. He picks the tablet back up and clicks on the hashtag, watching as more tweets pop up. _You deserve to have to read these. You deserve to be in pain._

@lessssssbianlozer 

lmao you can just tell how unhappy steve is in that relationship. its so obvious he doesnt want to be with bucky. like just drop him. #stevedeservesbetter 

@prettyboystevie 

ok so no matter if ur team cap or team iron man we can all agree bucky barnes is a fucking train wreck #stevdeservesbetter 

@danielstark 

do the avengers just ignore the fact that bucky is an actual murder and assasain and killed a us president or what ??? maybe thats why he isnt at half the events lmao #stevedeservesbetter #fuckbuckybarnes 

@steverogersownsme 

@danielstark i mean if ur boyfriend constantly acted like that whenever u tried to go out would u rlly wanna be with him? honestly dont think i can blame them… #theweakersoldier 

@danielstark 

@steverogersownsme ur not wrong. steves probably so embarrassed to be around him lmaooo wouldnt be surprised if they broke up #stevedeservesbetter #buckybarnesisoverparty 

@lokokokoki 

would any1 rlly care if bucky killed himself? rofl hes not rlly helping the avengers or anything. not like anyone would miss him, specially not steve lmao #stevedeservesbetter #theweakersoldier #justdoit 

@stanbtsbabes 

bucky barnes really out here making his boyfriend look like shit ok are we just going to let that happen or what? #stevedeservesbetter 

@stevesthighsksk 

steve is so pretty and fit and then bucky just looks so fat and ugly like someone put him on a diet istg #stevedeservesbetter 

@stephanstrangleme 

steve sleeps in the same bed as the most dangerous, unattractive, ugly man in the world ,,, steve stans how we doing? #stevedeservesbetter 

“Bucky? What’ya doin? It’s late, come back’ta bed baby,” Steve mumbles, stumbling out from the balcony doors. Bucky shuts the tablet down quickly, shoving it away from himself. Steve slouches down in the chair next to him, scooting over to lean his head on Bucky’s shoulder. The blond man makes a content noise in the back of his throat, nuzzling against the other’s sweater. 

“Nothin’ Stevie. Just couldn’t sleep,” Bucky says. 

“Nightmares?” Steve seems more awake now, leaning up to look at Bucky. 

No. Just haven’t been able to sleep. ‘ve been thinkin’ too much, that’s all.” 

“Awh. I’m sorry baby. Wish I could help,” Steve presses a soft kiss to Bukcy’s forehead. _Enjoy this while it lasts, faggot. ‘Cause you won’t be getting anything like this any time soon._ “Why doncha come backta bed now? ‘S too late and we both need sleep. You ‘specially.” 

Steve gets up, and motions for Bucky to do the same. Bucky takes his hand and pulls himself up, cringing at the idea that Steve has to even _try_ to pick him up. Steve pulls him into a tight embrace, one that Bucky accepts immediately. He tucks his face into Steve’s bare shoulder, appreciating the way his warm skin feels against Bucky’s cold cheek. 

Steve leans down and kisses him deeply. All Bucky can smell is _Steve_ (it’s not like he’s complaining), and he melts into the way Steve’s lips move against his. It’s soft and gentle and _so, so_ perfect. Bucky kisses back but with not nearly as much finesse as Steve. Steve makes a soft growling sound in the back of his throat and pushes his tongue into Bucky’s mouth. Bucky’s practically putty in Steve’s arms and would probably have fallen back into the chair if it weren’t for Steve’s support. 

Steve pulls apart, still holding on to Bucky. 

“Bedroom. Now.” Bucky follows behind Steve like a puppy, not entirely sure what he’s getting himself into but happy nonetheless. Steve locks the balcony door behind them and practically pounces on Bucky. 

“Weren’t you exhausted two minutes ‘go?” Bucky laughs as Steve kisses down his neck. 

“”Dunno. You just look _so good_ in that damn sweater. Fuck. It should be illegal how fuckin’ good your arms look,” Steve groans pushing Bucky back on the bed. Bucky’s back hits the bed, and suddenly all he can think about is _that man_. Him towering over Bucky. His strong fingers bruising Bucky’s hips. His loud grunts permeating the air. 

Steve sucks another hickey on Bucky’s collarbone. _Not that you have collarbones. All you have is fat. Fat fat fat fat fat._

Bucky doesn’t want to do this anymore. 

He doesn’t want to. 

_But you have to be a good boy. If you say no then you’re bad. Bad bad bad bad bad. Steve won't want to be with you anymore if you say no._

Bucky stays still as Steve takes off his sweater, continuing to kiss down his chest and stomach. 

“Fuck, what did I do to have someone like you in my life? God baby, you look so fucking good,” Steve says reaching to undo Bucky’s belt. He sucks a hickey onto Bucky’s hip, pulling his zipper down. 

He can feel all your fat. All your disgusting, disgusting fat. He cna feel how it is piling on your hips. He can feel everything. Every single pound. 

Steve reaches into Bucky’s underwear. 

"Steve, Steve wait-” Bucky breathes out quickly. “I-uh-not tonight. I just-I uh-I don’t wanna right now. Sorry.” Steve’s face looks crestfallen for a split second before it goes back to normal. Bucky feels so guilty. _If you had just been a good boy and taken it like you should have then maybe, just maybe, Steve would actually want to be with you._ “‘M sorry Steve. Really.” 

“Buck, you have nothing to be sorry for. You don’t ever have to have sex with me. I don’t ever expect you to. I never want to make you feel like you’ve been forced into something,” Steve lays down next to Bucky, taking his hand and kissing it. Bucky looks away, not able to face Steve. _Disappointment. This is why Steve doesn’t want to be with you. Break up with him. Tomorrow morning. Do it. He’ll be glad. He doesn’t want you around. Fat faggot._

“Com’ere. I love you so much. Don’t ever think you have to be sorry ‘cause you don’t wanna have sex. That’s not what our relationship is about. I love you so much, with or without sex,” Steve kisses the top of his head. Steve gets up to grab the sweater off the floor and hands it to Bucky. Bucky puts it on slowly, happy Steve isn’t looking at him and his fat body. _But he was before. Before you decided you were allowed to make decisions. You’re going to be punished for that._

“Goodnight baby. Get some sleep. I’ll be right here when you wake up,” Steve says softly, climbing into the bed and turning the lights off. For the second time that night, Bucky waits until Steve is fast asleep, his breath coming in little huffs. 

_Bad bad boy. You’ve been so bad. You don’t deserve happiness. Steve’s going to be so thankful when you break up with him. It’s going to be such a relief when you do. Maybe then he can finally be with someone he wants to be with. Maybe, after you break up with him of course, you could kill yourself. Yeah. Wouldn’t that be nice. It’s not like they would notice your absence. Just do it Buckybear. Just fucking kill yourself. Everyone thinks it. You read those tweets. You know what everyone thinks. It would be so much easier if you would just do it._ Bucky turns on his side, tears rolling down his face. He can taste the saltiness of them as they trail down his cheeks. He knows it will all get better once he breaks up with Steve. It has to. 

He lays in bed for an hour before he decides he’s not going to pretend that he can fall asleep any longer. He gets up quietly, tip-toeing down to the common room. He glances over at the kitchen. _Oh you better fucking not. You better fucking not. You better not act like you even deserve to think about food. After that stunt you just pulled? No way. Only good boys get food. You are not a good boy. You don’t deserve food. You have never deserved food. You know what you deserve? You deserve to be as unhappy as you possibly can. You deserve to never feel anything good ever again. But you certainly don’t deserve to eat. You never have and you never will. You are disgusting. Maybe once you lose the weight, maybe then you will deserve to be happy._

Bucky settles for taking a spot on the couch. He curls up underneath a pile of blankets, the subtle weight feeling good on his chest. He wants to cry so bad, but he knows he isn’t allowed to. Instead, he tucks his hands underneath the blankets and scratch at his hips and thighs. He hits over the hickey that Steve left, feeling the pain shoot through his body and simmer. _You deserve this._

He hears the soft footsteps before he sees the person: Natalia. Her feet sweep the ground quietly, with a grace Bucky could only ever hope to have. She has her hair clipped back and is wearing one of Wanda’s sweatshirts. 

“Can I sit here?” Natalia motions to the spot next to Bucky. He nods mutely, pulling the blankets tighter around him. 

“What are you doing up, James? It’s two in the morning,” she says. He stares down at the floor and shrugs. He knows he can’t tell her what happened. She would only laugh. Besides, it’s not like she really cares about him. No one does. 

"Dunno. Couldn’t sleep so I came down ‘ere,” Bucky responds. He avoids looking in her eyes; it always feels as though she is picking him apart piece by piece when they make eye contact. Bucky hates it. “Wha’bout you? ‘S pretty late for you to be up, too.” 

“Same. I hate just lying there waiting for sleep to come. And I don’t want to wake Wanda up, so normally I just come down here and make myself a cup of coffee or hot chocolate,” Natalia says. “Speaking of which, would you like a cup?” 

“No,” Bucky says, way too quickly. Natalia gives him a confused glance as she leaves but doesn’t comment on his weird behavior. He’s very, very grateful. She comes back two minutes later, holding a steaming mug. She takes her spot next to him. 

“Are you okay?” She breaks the silence, and the air around them gets thicker. _Lie to her. You don’t get to be honest. You don’t deserve love or care. Lie to her. Lie to her._

“‘M fine,” Bucky says quietly. He’s not even sure if she can hear him. He brings his eyes up to her face, avoiding her calculating gaze. It feels like she is looking right through his facade. He hates it. He doesn’t want to be here anymore. 

“James, we all have problems. That’s okay. It’s okay to feel bad. But you’re not allowed to cut us off and start hurting yourself because of that. It’s not okay to pretend like we aren’t here. You are allowed to have bad days, but you are not allowed to take it out on anyone, _especially_ not yourself,” she says, bringing her hand to rest on his shoulder. “You’ve been through a lot more than most of us. We have all seen your file, and we both know that barely scratches the surface of some of the things you went through while you were under HYDRA’s control.”Bucky’s breathing picks up, and he’s begun scratching at his thigh under the blanket again. 

“Natalia, I’m fine. Really. Just tired,” he says gruffly. It’s not a total lie; he is exhausted, she just can’t know _why_. Natalia gets up, staring down at Bucky. 

“We both know that’s a lie. But please, please, _please_ understand that you can come to any of us when you need someone to talk to. We may not be able to help you much, but you shouldn’t be keeping everything bottled up inside you.” She makes her way over to the elevator. “And, James. Stop doing _that_. Remember what I said: you are not allowed to take your bad days out on yourself, and you are not allowed to hurt yourself because of it.” 

Bucky waits until the doors to the elevator are closed before he starts panicking. _She knows she knows she knows she knows she knows she knows-_

He’s stumbling out of the common room up to the bathroom. He slams the door in, too upset to really care if he’s waking someone up. He locks the door shakily, not even bothering to turn on the lights. 

_She knows._

_She knows_

_She knows._

_She knows._

_She knows._

SHE KNOWS. 

SHE KNOWS SHE KNOWS SHE KNOWS SHE KNOWS- 

_Hurt yourself._

_Hurt yourself._

_Hurt yourself._

_Bad boy bad boy bad boy-_

_Fuck UP!_

_FUCK UP!_

_FUCK UP!_

_FUCK UP FUCK UP FUCK UP_

_WHY CAN’T YOU DO ANYTHING RIGHT?_

_THEY DON’T CARE!_

_THEY’VE NEVER CARED!_

_FUCK UP FUCK UP FUCK UP FUCK UP FUCK UP FUCK UP-_

_STUPIDSTUPIDSTUPIDSTUPIDSTUPIDSTUPIDSTUPID-_

_Steve will be so happy when you break up with him._

_So so happy._

_You never deserved him._

_You should kill yourself right here right now._

_Kill yourself._

_Kill yourself._

_Bad boy._

_Bad boys don’t deserve love._

_Bad boys deserve pain._

_You’ve never deserved love._

_Hurt yourself more._

_Good._

_At least you can follow directions._

_FUCK UP FUCK UP_

_BAD BAD BAD_

_NO LOVE NO LOVE_

_NO ONE HAS EVER LOVED YOU_

_FUCK UP FUCK UP FUCK UP_

_BAD BAD BAD BAD BAD BAD BAD BAD BAD BAD-_

_They hate you so much._

_Why can’t you see that?_

_So, so much._

_Everyone hates you._

_You’re just a burden._

_You’ve read the things people think._

_They hate you_

_You don’t deserve happiness._

_Bad bad bad-_

_You don’t deserve love._

_You should kill yourself._

_Maybe then you wouldn’t be a burden._

_Faggot._

Bucky falls asleep sobbing on the bathroom floor, cold and alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok i am sosososososorry its been so long since i had updated. i just got done with finals and i basically wrote this whole chapter in the past two days and i am so so so sorry i haven't been able to update. on the good side, finals are over! and so is school! i'll be able to update much more frequently now!
> 
> also thank you so much for the nice comments and kudos. they mean so much more to me than you guys understand, and your nice comments literally make my day.  
> also also sorry if you hated the way i formatted the tweets! i have no idea how to do that!


	7. past tense

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky makes a mistake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter is short but 
> 
> oh boy
> 
> buckle up.
> 
> tw for mentions of abuse, self harm, ed, cheating
> 
> this is the only chapter so far i have physically had a reaction to writing. most of them are pretty okay, but this one man, the ending kinda fucked me up to write ngl

Bucky hisses as the cold cloth comes in contact with his thigh. He softly swipes the soft cotton over his leg, trying to remove all the blood he can. The coolness feels nice against his marred thigh, and he is mindful of the scratches running up and down the tops of his thighs. _At least you’ll be able to hide them. Not like you’ll be showing your fat thighs to the world any time soon._

He cringes as the scratches are revealed under the blood. He had clawed the top layer of skin off of his thighs last night during his freak out. By the time he had woken up, the blood had soaked through his pajama pants. Luckily, none of it had stained the tile floor. _You better hope none of it stained. Do you know how mad Stark would be if he knew you were ruining his things? He doesn’t even want you here! And yet, here you go, fucking up everything you can get your hands on: your relationship, your body, even the building you live in. Pathetic._

Pathetic. Bucky sighs softly squeezing all of the water out of the dark cloth. It runs red into the drain, mixing with the clearer water. He feels gross all over; he’s covered in blood, sweat, and tears. His hair is matted and his nails are caked with blood. He doesn’t even want to look in the mirror and see what he looks like. _Do it. See what a fuck-up you are. You don’t deserve happiness. You deserve to see what you really look like. Disgusting. No wonder Steve doesn’t care about you. Poor little Stevie, being forced to stay with fat, ugly Bucky._

Bucky raises his head and makes eye-contact with himself in the mirror. His eyes are bloodshot and rimmed with redness and tears. His entire face is puffy and bloated. There are tear tracks streaming down his cheeks. His nose is crusted with snot. He feels disgusting. 

He is disgusting. 

Bucky stares at himself with hatred, picking over every feature. His too big nose. His ugly gray eyes. His mousy, tangled hair. His chubby cheeks. His disgusting chin. How his eyes are too far apart. How his jawline isn’t sharp. How his skin is dull and discolored around his mouth. How his hair sticks up. 

He’ll never be enough. Not enough for Steve. Not enough for anyone. That’s why he is breaking up with Steve. It is doing him a favor really. Breaking up with Steve would save Steve the pain of actually having to do it himself. Yeah. He is doing an _amazing_ thing by breaking up with Steve. _Maybe then you’ll have time to focus on losing that disgusting fat. Maybe then you’ll have a chance at finding someone who tolerates you. But let’s face it, that won’t happen. Not until you’re the prettiest, skinniest boy who has ever walked._

He takes a shaky breath, tearing his eyes away from the mirror. As disgusting as he looks, he also feels disgusting. Sweat sticks to his armpits and the back of his neck. He can still smell blood lingering, and his thighs look like they took a beating last night. He can feel blood caked in every ridge in his hand. He needs to be clean again. 

He opens the door to the bathroom as quietly as he can, shifting his weight in a way that makes him sound invisible. _You are invisible._ He evens his breathing out until even _he_ can barely hear it. _Chin up, солдат. At least you are useful for something other than murduring._

“I-I just don’t know what to do. He’s been acting so, so weird these past couple of weeks,” a voice filters through the air. Steve. Bucky freezes. “I don’t know what to think. Like there’s a part of me that thinks that something bad is going on.” 

They’re talking about him. They have to be. Bucky presses himself tightly against the wall, thankful the bathroom is hidden around a bend. 

“I agree. He has been acting really strange,” Bruce says. Bucky wants to curse. Of course, Steve is talking to Bruce. Bruce, the only person on this team that legitimately scares Bucky. Bruce is a fucking _doctor_. If he found out how morbidly obese Bucky is he would for sure kick him off the team. If Bruce was to discover the sheer amount of food Bucky has eaten he would be disgusted. Bucky doesn’t want to be kicked off. _You were never part of the team though. Faggot. Ever thinking they would want you._

“You aren’t the only one who has noticed something, Steve,” Natalia says softly. Bucky is going to die. 

“What do’ya think is going on? There has to be a reason he is acting so weird,” Stark responds, sounding more sincere than Bucky has ever heard him. Bucky curls his hands into fists, digging his nails into his palms. 

“I have this suspicion, and it is really bad, but just looking at everything, I-I think Bucky might be cheating on me…” Steve trails off. Bucky brings his hand up to his mouth and bites down to hold back his sobs. _You’ve fucked this relationship up so much. No wonder Steve doesn’t want you. You’ve managed to convince him you don’t love him. You’re pathetic. Gross and pathetic. He would enjoy life so much more if you would just kill yourself. You don’t deserve love. You don’t deserve happiness. Just kill yourself._

“Steve, that’s a pretty big accusation to make,” Bruce says. Someone sighs. 

“I know, I know. It’s just-when I look at all the evidence and stuff, like, I just think that he has to be cheating. It’s the only logical explanation. Out of nowhere he just started rejecting hy hugs and kisses, he doesn’t talk to me as much, he always seems to be focussing on something else. I mean, we haven’t had sex in weeks. Weeks! Not to go into too much detail, but that is _not_ normal! And last night I walked out on the balcony to see him texting _someone_ at two in the morning! He obviously didn’t know I was there, and when I finally said something, he shoved the tablet away with the guiltiest look on his face! After that, he left our room when he thought I was asleep and never came back. I just don’t know what to do. I love him so much and put so much energy into the relationship but sometimes-sometimes I just feel like he doesn’t want to be with me,” Steve sighs. It almost sounds like he is crying. Bucky feels terrible. 

“Have you tried talking to him? Maybe there’s more going on than you think,” Natalia says. 

“No, but every time I try to start a conversation with him it’s like he shuts me down,” Steve responds. 

“Well, I think your best course of action would be to try and talk to him and see what is going on. I know James loves you. He really does. But I also see where you are coming from, and you have every right to be upset,” Natalia says. Bucky leaves before he can hear the rest of it, traveling up the stairs as gracefully as he can possibly be. 

When he finally reaches their room, he runs into the bathroom and locks the door tight. He turns on the shower, setting the temperature as cold as it can be. _You don’t deserve warmth. You deserve to suffer. What have you ever done to deserve anything? You can stand a cold shower. At least you aren’t wasting resources._ He strips unceremoniously, chucking his clothes into the hamper in the side of the room. _You’re making a mess. Bad boy. Steve doesn’t want you. He’s never wanted you. He wants you to break up with him. He doesn’t want to go through that by himself. He wants you to do it. Pathetic faggot. You don’t deserve love._

Bucky steps into the shower, letting the water run down his back. He shivers hard, hating the feeling of the slick drops dancing over his skin. He doesn’t deserve the warmth. He deserves to suffer. 

It’s all he knows how to do. 

He grabs the loofa and scrubs _hard_. The blood flakes off, leaving behind raw, ripped up skin. He needs to feel clean. He needs to feel clean. He runs shampoo through his hair, once, twice, washing it out between every lather. His hair is gross. 

Maybe if he can clean himself good enough he won’t be such a disgusting person. 

Maybe. 

Maybe. 

What is he thinking? 

He’s always been disgusting. 

No wonder Steve doesn’t want him. 

Who would ever want a disgusting assassin? Steve probably keeps the shield by their bed because he’s too scared of Bucky. Who wouldn’t be? He’s dangerous. He’s disgusting. He’s worthless. He’s got no redeeming qualities. 

He dries off methodically. Bucky pats each limb softly, not wanting to hurt himself more than he already has. _You deserve it_. Bucky tastes bile at the back of his throat. He’s so tired. So, so tired. He hangs the towel up softly, his hair still dripping on the floor. 

He crouches down next to the cabinet and pulls out the scale. It clinks as it comes in contact with the tile floor. He steps on, his feet sticking to the glass top. Bucky holds his breath and counts _one, two, three_ for the numbers to pop up. 

_257.4._ Minus fifteen for his arm. _242.4._

He’s so fucking fat! 

So disgusting! 

He picks the scale up and hides it carefully back in the cabinet. 

“Hey Buck, is that you?” Steve knocks on the door. Shit. 

“Uh-uh yeah-it’s me,” he calls back shakily. _You should so fucking stupid. No wonder he doesn’t want you._

“You doing okay?” 

“Yeah, I’m fine!” Bucky walks over to the laundry basket and grabs his clothes off the top of it. He shoves his pants back on quickly and chucks his shirt on. He grabs a sweatshirt of Steve’s sitting underneath, and it still smells like Steve. 

He walks out of the room. 

Here goes nothing. 

Here goes everything. 

“Hi baby,” Steve pulls Bucky in for a tight hug, kissing the top of his head.”How’ya doin?” 

“M’okay,” Bucky mumbles into Steve’s shirt. “Um-actually Steve, there is somethin’ I wanted to talk to you about.” 

Bucky feels sick. 

Oh god. 

He’s going to throw up. 

Steve pulls away from Bucky to look him in the eyes. Concern is laced through his blue eyes. Bucky already feels guilty. Fuck up fuck up fuck up fuck up fuck up- 

“Bucky, is everything okay?” Bucky twists his hands around. 

He’s so tired. 

So, so tired. 

_You don’t deserve sleep._

SO SO SO TIRED. 

“I was, uh-I think-um-I’m breaking up with you.” 

“What?” 

Bucky’s going to be sick. He can’t look Steve in the eyes. He can’t. _Bad boy bad boy bad boy bad boy._

“I-uh-I am breaking up with you.” 

“Bucky what’s going on? Is this a joke?” 

“No.” “

"Can you at least look me in the fucking eyes if you are going to do this?” Steve snaps. Bucky looks up. Steve is so angry. So so so so angry. _He’s going to hit you. You deserve it_. “What the fuck has been up with you the past couple of weeks?” 

“Nothing Stevie-” 

“No. You don’t get to call me that. You don’t fucking get to call me that.” Steve laces his fingers through his hair and pulls. Bucky almost lets out a whimper. He doesn’t want Steve hurting himself because of Bucky. 

“Listen, I just think that we will do better if you go our own separate ways-” 

“ _What_? Bucky, we’ve been together since _1939_! What the hell is going on?” 

“I just think-” 

“Have you been cheating on me?” Steve looks so broken. Bucky’s going to throw up. He’s going to throw up. 

“No, no Steve I swear-” 

“Because that’s what it fucking looks like. You don’t just break up with someone you’ve been together with for the better part of _70 years_ just ‘because’! What is going on Barnes? Why have you been so distant? Because if you’re cheating on me I would just like to know.” 

“No Steve I would never! I promise! I would never cheat on you!” 

“Then can you just tell me what is going on!” He’s crying. Oh God. Bucky made Steve cry. He’s a bad boy. He deserves to be punished. 

“I just don’t think we are working together great anymore! I think it would be better for both of us if we just saw different people,” Bucky practically cries out. His breathing is harsh. 

“I still love you Steve-” 

“And I loved you.” 

“ _Stevie._ ” 

Steve doesn’t say anything. 

Bad bad bad bad- 

Bucky made a mistake. 

“I want your stuff out of this room by tonight. Everything. Anything you leave here I’m fucking burning.” Steve slams the door behind himself and the room shudders. 

Oh God. 

What did Bucky do?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im sorry im sorry im sorry im sorry
> 
> this is a lot i know
> 
> it will get better
> 
> not quickly though
> 
>  
> 
> i hope yall can forgive me for not uploading. i have the next couple of chapters planned out so those should be easy to write.
> 
> take care of yourself. go get a drink of water, stretch your legs, and grab a bite to eat. you matter so much <3


	8. losing control

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky Barnes Cannot Catch A Break™

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hahaha hey its ya girl anya back at it against with promising and chapter then uploading it late haha sorry
> 
> major tw: self harm & the talking down of people who cut themselves (bucky refers to them as weak and implies people who cut are 'insert gay slur here'), homophobia and internalized homophobia, uhhh and tony stark being rlly mean

Bucky can barely breathe as he threw his clothes into the duffle bag. His vision is blurred; tears streaming down his face so fast he can’t brush them away in time. He can’t breathe, he can’t breathe, HE CAN’T BREATHE, HE CAN-He deserves it. He doesn’t deserve love. Why would Steve ever want to stay with someone like Bucky? Fat, ugly, unlovable Bucky. Steve will sleep better at night anyways; he doesn’t have to worry about Bucky waking up and killing him. Bucky is a danger to everyone. He doesn’t deserve love. He’s never deserved love. 

He sobs harder as he chucks shirt after pant after shirt into the bag. He doesn’t have much clothing (he never bothered to go shopping when he arrived at Stark Tower-there was already clothing there for him to wear), so thankfully he doesn’t have to spend much more time in their room. 

In Steve’s room. Not their room. He doesn’t have the right to call it that anymore. He never had the right to call it that. 

_You should kill yourself._

He should. Maybe then Steve would be happy. If Bucky was just out of his life there would be no one he would have to worry about. _Not that Steve ever worried about you. Steve has much better things to do than worry about you. No one ever worries about you. You’re not important enough. You were never important enough. You’re just a lazy, ugly slob who’s too high maintenance for anyone to ever want._

Bucky gets up and looks at the closet. It looks almost bare with all of his clothing out of it. _It’s better this way._ He turns around to his bedside table, looking at the photo of them sitting on top. Bucky is smiling at Steve while Steve takes the selfie. Bucky bites his lip. They had taken the photo on Steve’s birthday. 

Bucky hugs the frame to his chest as he cries. _Just kill yourself faggot. Steve never wanted you. No one will ever want you. Steve’s so thankful you broke up with him. You did the right thing._ Bucky quickly shoves the photo into his bag and grabs the books he has stored underneath his nightstand. _You don’t deserve love._ He walks into the bathroom. Picking up his toiletries, he chucks them into the bag without caring. _Disgusting. Immature. You’re too much of a hassle for anyone to deal with._ He’s forgetting something. He has to be. 

The scale. He crouches down and opens the cabinet, digging through the extra toilet paper and toothpaste until he spots the metal. He grabs it and takes it out slowly, too scared someone will hear the clink of the glass or the creak of the wooden cabinet. It fits snugly in his bag as he tucks it deep into the bottom, pushing his clothes over top it to cover it. 

He walks out of the bathroom and does one last check around the room. His heart sinks as he realizes this is the last time he will ever be in here. _You don’t deserve to have a nice bed. You’ve never deserved to have a nice bed. You should still be with HYDRA._ He grabs a few items he missed on the first go-around-- including the tablet--and stops himself in front of the closet. His eyes drift over to Steve’s side. His clothes are neatly lined up, all folded and hung with military precision. 

Steve wouldn’t notice, right? Bucky doesn’t think he would be able to live without Steve’s smell. It’s the only thing that calms him down. His hand ghosts over the shirts and sweaters, finally finding one in the back. Bucky hasn’t seen Steve wear it since he got to the tower. It’s a thick red sweater, the kind a grandmother makes for her grandson, and the material feels so soft between Bucky’s fingers. He shoves his face in it, taking in the smell of Steve’s cologne. 

It just makes him cry harder. 

He folds the sweater neatly and places it in his bag like it’s the most valuable thing he owns (it is). 

He turns around one last time to look at the bedroom. His heart drops. He’s never going to be here again. He’s never going to sleep next to Steve again. He’s never going to kiss Steve again. He’s never going to be loved again. 

He chokes out a sob. The door handle feels cold in his grasp. 

He doesn’t want to leave. 

He’s made a mistake. 

He’s wants to go back. 

He wants to be with Steve again. 

He doesn’t want to be alone. 

He just wants to be loved. 

Is that too much to ask for? 

_Yes._

He doesn’t feel anything as he closes the door to the bedroom. The door shut with a small thud, and he is facing the hallway. The duffle bag feels heavy against his shoulder. He just wants to go back into the bedroom and put all of his things back where they are supposed to be. 

It’s his fault, though. 

He’s not allowed to be upset. 

He’s a disgusting faggot. 

He doesn’t deserve love. 

Bucky bites his fist to hold back his sobs. He can’t let anyone know how he is feeling. He isn’t allowed to worry anyone. 

“Jarvis?” Bucky says, voice raspy. 

“Yes Sergeant?” The A.I. responds. 

“Where’s the nearest guest bedroom?” 

“It is just down this hallway. Follow the lights and I will lead you to it,” Jarvis says. Bucky watches as the hall lights turn on, leading down to a door a little ways away. He walks slowly, careful not to let any of the floorboards creak. He can’t let anyone know he is here. They already hate him. No need to remind them that he’s here. 

He can hear the teams’ voices rumbling on the floor beneath him. He knows that if he takes a wrong step or makes a wrong move they’ll hear him. Then they’ll kick him out. The only thing keeping them from kicking him out was Steve. And now that Steve is no longer obliged to be around him, the team has no reason to keep Bucky around. 

He knows he should start looking for a job and another place to live. They are only going to let him stay around for so much longer before they get sick of him. Now that Steve doesn’t love him, there is no one who actually wants him here ( _Steve never wanted you here. Steve always thought you were a burden. He has always and will always hate you_ ). 

The handle of the guest room -technically his room now-is freezing cold. He pushes open the heavy wood, coming face-to-face with darkness. He chucks his duffle bag on the ground and climbs into the bed, exhaustion weighing his body down. \- 

Bucky wakes up disoriented. His shoulder is screaming in pain, and he has a terrible headache. His entire body is thrumming with pain. He groans into the pillow, shoving his face into the soft cotton. 

“Jar’is, wha’time is it?” Bucky mumbles. It hurts his throat to talk. 

“It is currently 6:58 p.m., Sergeant,” Jarvis responds, his voice crisp and clear. 

6:58. That means the team is probably eating dinner. 

Bucky scrambles up, pulling hair out of his mouth. “Hey Jarvis, what time did the team start eating dinner at? Did anyone try n’wake me up?” 

“No Sergeant Barnes. They started dinner at approximately 6:45. No one tried to wake you up.” Jarvis’ words linger in the air. _No one tried to get him._ But they never forgot to get him for dinner? Maybe it was just a simple mistake? They couldn’t have forgotten him, could they? Bucky knows he isn’t really an integral part of the team, but could they completely forget to get him for dinner? 

_They know you don’t deserve to eat._

“Jarvis, could you please pull up the live feed from the dining room?” Bucky says. The A.I. doesn’t respond but projects the feed onto the wall. Bucky can hear the clinking of their forks against their plates. 

“-such a fucking _asshole_! Why in hell’s name would he ever do that to you? You’ve done so much for him, and he just fucking _drops_ you like that? You put up with him over all those months, ever panic attack, every sleepless night, every little freakout, only for him to just break up with you? The guts that takes,” Stark says, throwing his hands up in the air. 

“Did he say why he was breaking up with you?” Bruce asks. 

“No,” Steve says. Bucky feels his heart skip a beat at the raspy tone in Steve’s voice. _It’s because he’s been crying. You made him feel like that. It’s your fault._ “He literally just told me he thought we needed a break. That was it.” Steve puts his fork down and cradles his head in his hands. “I just don’t know what I did wrong! I gave him everything he wanted and more. I tried so hard to be patient with him even when he was being difficult. I finally was starting to think that our relationship was stabilizing and then he just dropped me.” 

Bruce gets up and walks over to Steve, pulling out the empty chair next to him (the one Bucky normally sits in-not that he’ll be eating dinner with them anymore; he knows they don’t want him around anymore, and he is not allowed to bother them). 

“Steve, it’s not your fault-” 

“Damn right it’s not. I wanna give that piece of shit a piece of my mind. It’s that fucker’s fault for even thinking he can treat you like this. You do so much for him-” Stark starts. 

“Tony, baby, _stop,_ ” Bruce says, holding his hand up. He turns back to Steve. “Steve, I think you might just need to give him a bit of space. From what you’ve told me and from what I’ve seen, it looks like Bucky is in a bit of a rough patch. He probably didn’t mean any of the things he was saying. Give it a week and you two will be back together happy.” 

“I don’t know Bruce. He seemed really serious, and he’s been acting so weird lately. What if we are really done? I don’t know-” 

“Jarvis, turn it off.” Bucky’s heart hurts so much watching Steve. _You did this to him. Faggot. You’re disgusting. No wonder Steve doesn’t want you. Just wait. In a week he’ll have a cute new boyfriend. Everyone will have forgotten you exist. You should kill yourself then. No one will even notice you are gone._

Bucky knows he should kill himself, he just doesn’t know _when_. He doesn’t want to put more pressure on the team by doing it now, but he also doesn’t want to make them put up with him any longer. 

He regrets ever even getting back in a relationship with Steve. He heard what Steve said; he knows how much pressure he put Steve under. He was so unfair to Steve. He expected Steve to put up with him even though Steve definitely didn’t want to spend his time trying to help Bucky. Steve didn’t deserve to have to put up with Bucky. Bucky was just holding Steve back the entire time. 

Bucky falls back on the bed and groans as his sore body comes in contact with the bed. He has no idea why he is in so much pain _. It doesn’t matter. You deserve it. _He’s so exhausted. He just wants to have one day where he doesn’t feel so bad. Everything hurts.__

__Tears stream down his face as he tries to breathe, his shoulder screaming with the rise and fall of his chest. He rolls over and shoves his face into the pillow. He can’t make any noise. The team can’t know he’s crying. He has to be good. He has to be good._ _

__He knows he’ll never be good enough, though._ _

__He falls asleep, face shoved in the damp pillow and mind full of angry thoughts. -_ _

__The door slams open, jolting Bucky awake. It crashes into the wall, and the light from the hall fills the dark space. A figure is standing in the door._ _

__“What the _fuck_ is wrong with you, Barnes?” Stark steps into the room. The light behind him illuminates his angry features. “The fucking _nerve_ you have to break up with Steve. The fucking _nerve_ it takes. After everything you put him through. After piling your problems on top of Steve, after forcing him to care for you as if you were a fucking _child_ , you have the _nerve_ to break up with him and drop him? Not only that, but you have the nerve to eavesdrop on our conversations? Newsflash, it’s my A.I. It is going to tell me when you pull stunts like that. There was a reason you weren’t invited to dinner. But, _no_ , you just _had_ to listen in. Fucking pathetic Barnes.” _ _

__Bucky is frozen. _Piling your problems on Steve._ He can’t move. _Forcing him to take care of you._ Why can’t he move? _After everything you put him through._ He can’t move, he can’t move, he can’t move. _You weren’t invited._ HE CAN’T MOVE HE CAN’T MOVE- _ _

___FUCKING PATHETIC._ _ _

___FUCKING PATHETIC._ _ _

___STEVE NEVER WANTED YOU._ _ _

___YOU ARE FUCKING PATHETIC._ _ _

___NO ONE WILL EVER LOVE YOU._ _ _

___EVERYONE HATES YOU._ _ _

__“What, are you just going to sit there in silence expecting everyone to feel bad for you? You’ve already guilt tripped us enough, it won’t work this time _soldier_ ,” Stark sneers. Bucky can’t feel his hands. He can’t feel anything. Why can’t he feel? Is he dying? He thinks he’s dying. It this what dying feels like? _ _

__“S-s-s-orry,” Bucky stutters. _Fucking pathetic._ _ _

__“Sorry? _Sorry!_ That’s all you have to say? You ruined Steve, Barnes. You _ruined_ him. He loved you-notice the fucking past tense here!-he _loved_ you so goddamn much, and you just fucking ruined it all. You don’t deserve him. You never did. You are a _murderer_! Why Steve even wanted to be with you in the first place is beyond my comprehension. You’re lucky I’m even letting you stay in this tower. Lord knows you don’t deserve it,” Snark spits. He shakes his head one last time, eyes trailing over Bucky’s body with a look of disgust so fierce it makes Bucky want to throw up, before walking over to the door. _ _

__“And let’s face it. You never should’ve been with him. I don’t even know why he took pity on you and started dating you. You’re so fucking subpar it hurts. You never deserved him,” Stark slams the door shut again, the room shaking._ _

___Steve never wanted you._ _ _

___You’re subpar._ _ _

___He just took pity on you._ _ _

__Bucky needs to hurt himself._ _

__He needs to hurt himself._ _

__He needs it, he needs it, he needs it._ _

___Fucking Pathetic._ _ _

___You’re a murderer._ _ _

___Why did Steve even want to be with you?_ _ _

__His nails aren’t enough._ _

__He needs to hurt more._ _

__He needs to hurt so much he can’t think anymore._ _

__( _Kill yourself_ ). _ _

___You don’t deserve love._ _ _

___He just took pity on you._ _ _

___Disgusting faggot._ _ _

__Bucky stumbles into the bathroom. He knows Stark keeps the bathrooms fully stocked with every kind of toiletry imaginable just in the case of emergency. He digs through the cabinets until he finds what he is looking for._ _

__He holds up the pack of razors. He peels the plastic away from the cardboard, pulling one of the razors out. It’s the disposable kind. The kind that is travel friendly._ _

___The kind that is easy to break._ _ _

__Bucky pulls the top off from the handle. He chucks the handle in the trash, cringing at the dull thud it makes._ _

__He holds up the head. Even in the low moonlight from the window, he can see the blades glinting. He smashes the head hard against the sink. The blades shoot out from their plastic cage and settle in the middle of the sink._ _

__He picks one up._ _

__It feels heavy in his fingers._ _

__He holds it to his flesh arm, feeling the cool metal press against his warm skin._ _

__No._ _

__No._ _

___No._ _ _

___NO!_ _ _

__He can’t do this._ _

__He can’t do this._ _

__He can’t do this._ _

__No no no no no no no no no no-_ _

__Bucky turns around and chucks the razors into the toilet, hitting the handle before they even touch the water._ _

__He’s crying now._ _

__NO NO NO NO NO NO NO!_ _

__He can’t do this._ _

___Fuck up. Why did you flush them?_ _ _

__He can’t hurt himself._ _

__He can’t._ _

__He’s not weak._ _

__He won’t slit his wrists._ _

___Faggot._ _ _

__He’s not that desperate for attention._ _

___Don’t slit your wrists then._ _ _

___Slit your thighs._ _ _

___Your hips._ _ _

___It’s not like anyone is going to be seeing you undressed anytime soon._ _ _

__Bucky wants to scream._ _

__He isn’t in control!_ _

__Why isn’t he in control?_ _

__Everything feels terrible._ _

__Everything hurts._ _

__Why isn’t he in control?_ _

__Bucky screams into his hand. He can’t take it anymore. He can’t take it anymore. He just wants to die. No one cares for him. It’s not like he’ll matter in 50 years. He’s never mattered._ _

__Bucky stumbles back onto his bed and sobs. He sobs and sobs and sobs until his body is out of tears. His eyelid droop shut. He falls asleep, throat sore and hands shaking._ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ahhh ok please don't ahte me for this.
> 
> so i have this headcanon that hydra made all of bucky's senses really intense (for assassin reasons yaknow to better track people and shit) and that is why he is always noticing the way steve smells because he has come to associate that smell with safety and calmness but like he doesnt know they did this to him so like yeah comment below if you want me to incorporate more of the weird experiments hydra did to bucky because i will lmao
> 
> next chapter will definitely be happier, and bucky will be shown he has people he can talk to if he needs to 
> 
> i luv u all and all the comments and kudos i recieve make my day yall dont understand!
> 
> if there is anything you want to see me write (whether it be a separate prompt or part of this story) just leave it in the comments!
> 
> please take a break! go take a walk, grab a drink, and eat a snack! you matter and i luv u all so very much!


	9. can't feel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky fucks up. Bruce wants to be there for him

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> guys, sorry for the wait. this chapter is a lil longer to try and make up for that hopefully.
> 
> trigger warning for graphic descriptions of self harm, blood, and medical talk/medical shit
> 
> stay safe. your mental health DOES NOT matter less than this story. DO NOT read this chapter if you are feeling in any way uncomfortable. there is a summary at in the end notes that summarize what happens.

Bucky stares at the wall in front of him, eyes unmoving and unfocused. Every limb on his body weighs him down, leaving him stuck on the mattress. He hasn’t moved in two days. He can’t find the energy to care. 

He knows once he leaves the room he’ll be confronted with reality. The Avengers will ask him to move out. Stark will kick him to the curb with nothing but the clothes on his back. _You deserve it. It’s not like you matter._

Stark had already made it clear to him how little he mattered. _Why are you so upset by that? He was just telling you the truth. You already knew how little Steve wanted to be around you. This just confirms it. Useless faggot. You don’t deserve anything. You don’t deserve a house. You don’t deserve friends. You don’t deserve food. Maybe then you would actually be skinny. Be attractive. Maybe then Steve will even consider for a second taking you back. But let’s face it. He never wanted you. He always viewed you as a burden. The only reason he kept you around was because he pitied you. Now he’s free of you. He won’t ever want to go back to you._

Bucky falls back on the bed, tears sliding down his cheeks. No one cares about him, and these last few days have confirmed it. Since Stark visited, not a single person has tried to talk to him. He’s heard them walking past his room, laughing and joking with one another, but no one even stopped outside his door to try and check on him. He knows he doesn’t deserve that, though. He ruined their lives and forced his problems on them. They’re probably just happy he’s out of their way. 

He reaches out onto the desktop and grabs his tablet. He’s been looking through twitter more and more, gouging himself on the nasty tweets people have been writing about him. It makes him feel good, in the sickest and most twisted way, to know how much people hate him. He knows he deserves the pain of having to read all these tweets. He isn’t allowed to be happy. 

The tweets generate, popping up one by one. His eyes flit over to the _trending_ tab. Right there, listed next to the number three, is the hashtag stucky-is-over. Bucky’s eyes widen as he looks at the words. His heart speeds up. He has no idea how anyone would know about their relationship being over. Bucky can’t help but let himself click the button. The screen flashes white before it pulls up even more tweets. 

@lessssssbianlozer 

LMAO I FUCKING CALLED IT! I KNEW STEVE WAS GOING TO GET SICK OF BUCKY AT SOME POINT! #stuckyisover 

@stevenstrangleme 

finally someone knocked some common sense into steve and got him to let go of bucky! steve is going to do so much better without that deadweight weighing him down. #stuckyisover 

@ellieromanov 

omg steve and that new boy look so cute together ahhhhh! #ishipthem #stuckyisover #finally 

Bucky stares at the screen for a second, confused. Steve and what new boy? Had it really taken Steve so little time to find a replacement for Bucky? His heart sinks to his stomach. _Of course you’re replaceable. Steve was probably already seeing someone when he was ‘with’ you. Now he’s just allowed to be open about it._ Bucky knows how much Steve hated being with him. Steve is probably so thankful Bucky broke up with him. Bucky continues to scroll down through the tweets, hoping to find photos of Steve and his new boyfriend together. 

@AvengersNews 

Breaking News! Steve Rogers seen cozying up with an unknown man? Could Stucky be over? #stuckyisover 

Attached to the tweet are four photos, each one from a slightly different angle, of Steve sitting next to a boy (man?) at a restaurant. He couldn’t possibly be older than 25, with a baby’s face that made him look even younger. Bucky stares at the tablet intently, slowing swiping through each different photo. Steve is close to the man in every photo, either leaning in or touching him. 

Finally, in the very last photo, Bucky gets a good look at the man’s face. He has a strong bone structure, his nose thin and his cheekbones sharp. His hair is a soft brown, and it curls slightly around his face. He looks lean. 

He’s more attractive than Bucky could ever hope to be. 

Bucky can tell by the way Steve is looking at the man that there is something going on. It’s the same way he looked at Bucky, it’s the same way he looked at Peggy, hell it’s the same way he looks at Stark! His eyes are filled with mirth and admiration. He’s laughing in half of the photos, his face bright and happy. 

It hurts to know Bucky has been so easily replaced. It took Steve all of three days to find a new boyfriend. A better boyfriend. One that is skinnier, prettier, and more handsome than Bucky could ever hope to be. One that won’t drag him down. One that won’t burden him with unnecessary problems. 

Bucky knows how much he burdened Steve. Now that he isn’t with Steve, Steve seems so much happier. _He’s happy because he doesn’t have to worry about your pathetic ass every second of the day. He’s happy because he can finally get a full night’s worth of sleep. He’s happy because he can finally be free of you. He’s happy because he doesn’t have to pretend to be attracted to some fat piece of lard._ Bucky shivers. When he scrolls down on the tweet, he can see all the replies to the original tweet. 

@lala1andfan 

@AvengersNews steves new bf is so much more attractive than bucky lmao 

@jakeryan 

@AvengersNews Bucky wasn’t a good fit for Steve. You could see how unhappy Steve always was with Bucky. He looks happy now, though! #stuckyisover 

@snapsnapbitches 

@AvengersNews And? We don’t care if stucky is over. Bucky was never and will never be good enough for Steve. Periodt. #theweakersoldier 

@stevenstrangerthings 

@AvengersNews i bet u that freakout ended their relationship. u could see how uncomfortable steve was when he had to deal with bucky. it was the straw that broke the camel’s back :/ 

The scroll of tweets goes on and on, and Bucky reads every single one that generates. Most of them are nasty, calling him out for being not good enough in one way or another. The nice ones are few and far, and most of them aren’t even nice; just pitying him. They shouldn't be pitying him. He doesn’t deserve it. 

Bucky slams the tablet down, surprised by the tears running down his face. His chest constricts again and again. He doesn’t feel anything. He knows everything he’s reading is true. There’s no reason to be upset about the truth. 

It’s simple science. Steve wasn’t happy. Bucky broke up with him. Now Steve is happy. The only variable that was changed was Bucky. Now Steve is living his life to the fullest. Who cares what Bucky is feeling? He knows he doesn’t matter. As long as Steve is living his life to the fullest, Bucky can be content in whatever situation he is living in. 

He doesn’t matter. He never has, and he never will. 

He lets out a harsh sob, hands clawing down his thighs. He doesn’t deserve to be happy. He’s never deserved to be happy. Steve deserves everything. Bucky deserves nothing. He has never done anything to deserve love. He’s fucked up so much. He is always fucking up so much. Steve is perfect. Steve doesn’t make mistakes. Steve is beautiful and attractive. Bucky is ugly and disgusting. 

Steve took pity on him. 

Steve never wanted him. 

He will always be subpar to Steve. 

He will never matter. 

He doesn’t deserve love. 

Bucky is scrambling out of bed, legs shaking from not being used. _Weak. Pathetic. Disgusting. Steve never loved you. No one has ever loved you. Worthless burden._ He rushes into the bathroom, flicking the lights on. 

It’s in the exact place he left it. 

The razor stands out against the stark white granite. It’s tiny, but he can see the way the light reflects against the edge. With unsteady hands, he picks it up, nicking his fingertips in the process. It doesn’t matter. He doesn’t feel it. 

He doesn’t feel anything. 

He pulls the side of his sweatpants down, exposing his pale thigh. His hands shaking. 

_Do it._

_Faggot._

_Do it._

_DO IT._

_DO IT DO IT DO IT DO IT DO IT DO IT DO IT-_

He swipes his hand down quickly against the side of his thigh. Pain blossoms like a morbid flower. It hurts so much. His thigh is throbbing. He drops the piece of metal and grips his thigh, his entire body shaking too much to gauge the damage he’s done. 

It hurts so much it hurts so much it hurts so much- 

His hands are covered in blood as they hold his leg. He grits his teeth, trying to calm his breathing enough to see if he needs to see a doctor. _Weak._

His breath is coming out is short, sharp jabs, each one physically hurting. His looks down to see a deep slash across the outside of his thigh. The skin around it is red and angry, blood pouring out and covering a decent chunk of his leg. 

He knows he needs to see a doctor. He’s bleeding way too much. It’s _everywhere_ , covering his hands, his leg, and dripping down on to the floor. His breathing is quick and erratic. 

He needs a doctor, he needs a doctor, _he needs a doctor!_

Bruce. 

He needs Bruce. 

Somewhere in his drunken-like state, he manages to pull his pants up, hand still tightly wrapped around the outside of his leg. Blood soaks through his pant, tye-dying the side of the fabric. He hobbles out of the bathroom, clutching everything he can on his way out. 

He stumbles into the elevator, biting his lips to not scream out in pain. He has no idea why he is in so much pain; he’s taken much more and never reacted this way. 

“JARVIS, please, I need to see Bruce _now,_ ” Bucky pleads, sitting down against the side of the elevator. The elevator lurches down, moving at a pace faster than Bucky remembers it going. His hand is covered in blood, his sweatpants not looking much different. It hurts so much. 

The elevator dings open, and he doesn’t have much more energy than to groan. He pulls himself up, metal plates shifting to support his weight. 

“Bruce,” he calls out meekly. He can see the back of the man’s head, bent over a stack of papers. He calls out again, this time louder. 

“Bucky?” Bruce turns around still looking at his papers. A pencil is tucked in his curls, glasses resting on his nose. 

“I-uh-I think I need your help.” 

“What can I- _oh my God Bucky!_ ” Bruce looks up, yelling. He rushes over to the limping man, leaning Bucky on his shoulder. They stumble over to a metal table, Bruce swiftly pushing everything off of it. “Sit up here. There you go.” 

Bruce pulls over a chair. 

“Bucky, I need you to take your pants off. Can you do that for me? Or do I need to cut them? Either way, they’ve got to go.” Bruce explains, trying to stay as calm as possible. Bucky makes a weak scissor motion with his hand. 

Bruce cuts up the pant leg, exposing Bucky’s wound. His leg is covered in sticky blood. Bruce reaches into a drawer below him and pulls out a hefty first-aid kit. He roots around in it, pulling out various packages and tools. 

“Bucky, I’m going to clean your leg. This is going to hurt, but please bear with me,” Bruce says. He grabs a bottle of disinfectant and squirts it on a towel. He presses the towel against Bucky’s leg softly. Bucky lets out a harsh hiss. _Pathetic._

“Hey, it’s okay. You’re doing great Bucky,” Bruce says softly. He dabs the blood away, revealing the wound. 

“Jesus Bucky! What did you do? This thing has to be nearly an inch deep.” He leans in closer, taking a better look. “Looks like this thing is a full thickness wound. You’re lucky. I think you just missed one of the perforating branches of your femoral artery. I’m going to have to stitch this thing up. I’m going to numb the area, okay?” 

Bucky nodded, eyes glazed and unfocused. His hands twitch as they grip the edge of the table, knuckles a sharp white. Bruce grabs a small vile and inserts a needle into it, filling it up. He spins around in the chair and faces Bucky again, glasses falling down his nose. 

He administers the lidocaine and grabs multiple blue packets from the first aid kit. He unwraps each other the tools and lays them out next to Bucky. 

“Hey Buck, can you tell me how this happened? This is a really deep wound, and I just want to know what caused it,” Bruce places his gloved hand on Bucky’s calf. 

“I tripped. On a piece of metal. Wasn’t watching where I was going and next thing I knew I had a sheet of metal halfway into my leg. First person I thought to come to was you,” Bucky lies. 

“Jeez Bucky,” Bruce shakes his head. “I’m going to have to stitch this up. It won’t hurt, I promise, but you’re going to have to sit extremely still for me.” Bucky nods. 

The stitches, 10 in total, took around 20 minutes. Bruce wraps the wound carefully securing the bandage. 

“You doing okay Bucky?” Bruce says, looking into his eyes. 

“Did he ever love me?” Bucky blurts out, quickly covering his mouth after he realizes what he said. 

“ _Oh Bucky_. Of course, he loved you. He _still_ loves you. He’s loved you for so much longer than any of us could even fathom,” Bruce’s eyes filled with sympathy. 

“What if-what if he was just lying to you?” Bucky looks down at his hands again. 

“It would’ve been impossible to lie about his feelings for you. The way his eyes lit up whenever he talked about you, the way he smiles when you walk into a room, you can’t fake that stuff.” 

“But, wasn’t I just burdening him? I know he never really wanted to be around me. I know he just always thought of me as an obstacle. I mean, you can’t love something that’s always holding you back.” 

“Bucky, where the hell did you get the idea that you’re a _burden_?” Bucky shrugs. 

“Stark.” 

“ _Tony_ told you all that?” 

“I mean, he didn’t say anything that wasn’t true.” 

“Bucky, _no_. You never burdened Steve in any way. You’ve never burdened _us_ in any way. We love you. _Steve_ loves you,” Bruce says, standing up. 

“Not anymore.” 

“Bucky, if you ever think that Steve could stop loving you-you are insane. That man loves you more than anything I have ever seen. You matter so much to him. You matter so much to _us_ ,” Bruce pulls Bucky into a tight hug, cautious of his leg. “Whatever, _whoever,_ is telling you these things is lying. Every single one of us loves you so much, with or without your problems. You are allowed to be human, Bucky. You are allowed to make mistakes. None of us hate you for that. _None_ of us. 

“I know things are really hard for you right now. We are all here for you. If you need to talk to _anyone, please_ don’t be afraid to. We all care for you so much.” Bucky nods mutely. 

“Thank you,” he rasps out. 

“Anytime, Bucky. _Really_. I want to be there for you,” Bruce says softly. Bucky pulls away from the hug, gently letting himself down from the ledge. 

“I think I should go. I’m really tired,” Bucky says. Bruce nods. 

“Of course. Please come down if your leg is hurting too much. It should be all healed up by tonight, so I want to see you before dinner to take the stitches out,” Bruce explains. 

“Uh-yeah. Thanks, Bruce. Really, I mean it.” Bucky smiles, just the corners of his mouth turning up. 

“Anytime Bucky. Please remember, I love you,” Bruce says, hoping he comes across as sincere as he feels. Bucky gives him one last smile before leaving. Bruce falls back into his seat and lets out a sharp breath. He pulls his gloves off, disposing of all of his tools properly. He walks back over to the piece of fabric sitting on the table, looking over it. 

There’s no rips anywhere on it. 

Nothing could have cut Bucky from outside the pair of pants. 

Now that’s he’s thinking about it, the cut was straight. 

_Too_ straight. 

“Shit,” Bruce whispers, tossing the pair of pants onto the table. “JARVIS, call the team. I need to talk to them, _now_. Tell them it’s an emergency.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> summary: bucky reads through tweets and finds steve has been spotted out with a younger boy. the hashtag stucky-is-over is trending on twitter, and bucky thinks steve has moved on quickly. he is upset by this, and he feels inferior to both steve and this boy. he cuts his thigh in the bathroom and quickly realizes his mistake. he rushes down to bruce and bruce stitches him up. afterwards, they talk about steve and how bucky feels steve never loved him. bruce assures him that steve never stopped loving him, and that everyone makes mistakes. bruce talks about how much the team cares for bucky, and how much the team loves him. bucky leaves feeling good. however, bruce discovers something that makes him very scared for bucky's health, and suspects he is hurting himself. he calls an urgent meeting for the team.
> 
> sorry for the long wait guys. i have been on vacation and working on more happy things. i hope yall can forgive me for not updating for so long. i wil try and make sure it doesn't happen again.
> 
> stay safe. go take a quick walk. stretch your legs. get a drink of water. go to bed. go eat something. go take a showever if you haven;t in a few days. you are so important and amazing. wherever you are in life, you are doing amazing. you are incredible and loved so much. i am here for every single one of you <3


	10. coming to light

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky Barnes Needs A Hug.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hehe sorry its been a while. i kinda hate how this turned out but whatever. 
> 
> tw for self-harm, suicidal thoughts
> 
> stay safe. my story is not more important than your mental health. you matter so much. please come back and read i=this story another time if you are not in a good place. seriously <3.

“I-I think Bucky is hurting himself,” Bruce says softly. 

Bucky barely catches his words. He’s standing in the hallway, completely frozen. His leg throbs dully, a reminder of how much of a burden he is. He had come to talk to Bruce about getting a pain med to dull the ache. Instead he is stuck in the dark hall, too scared to move. 

“Sorry?” Clint says. 

“I think Bucky is-I think he’s self-harming.” 

“Bruce, buddy, you gotta back up this claim a little more. That’s a pretty serious thing to just throw out there.” There is a round of murmuring, mostly agreeing with Clint. _It sounds like the entire team is in there. They all know how much of a fuck up you are. Everyone is laughing at you. Bruce is sick of you. He just wants you out. He doesn’t want to have to deal with you anymore. None of them do._

“Right, sorry,” Bruce clears his throat. “Ok, so a couple hours ago he came into the lab looking like actual death. His leg was _covered_ in blood. Like covered. Like it was everywhere. Anyways, he can’t walk at all, and he’s stumbling around. He can’t even talk. He looks ghostly pale. I cut a part of his sweatpant off to see a giant gash along the side of his leg. It was bad. The cut was super deep and looked really inflamed. It took 10 stitches to finally close up the wound. I asked him how he got it, and he told me he tripped on a piece of metal. Tripped. On a piece of metal. After he leaves I check the cut up piece of his pant leg. It was fully intact. And the cut was very smooth and straight. _Too_ smooth and straight to have been an accident. I think it might have been self-inflicted.” 

Bucky’s breath feels caught in his throat. Everything feels numb. There’s a ringing in his ears. Disgraceful. 

“Oh my _god_ ,” someone-Steve- _Steve_ says. A choked sob rings through the hallway. Bucky has to bite his hand to hold back one of his own. _Look what you’ve done. You should’ve never gone to Bruce. You should’ve bled out on the bathroom floor. You’re worrying them now. You are wasting their time because you couldn’t be more careful. It’s all your fault. This is why no one has ever or will ever love you._

“And-uh-I think I might have found out why he broke up with you Steve.” There’s a pause. “After I stitched him up, he-uh-he said some pretty worrying things. He asked me if you ever really loved him. He kept saying he was a burden and an obstacle, and how you could never have loved him because he was always in your way.” Steve is crying now, heavy thick sobs resounding through the rooms. _You made him feel like that. It’s your fault. Everyone hates you. Look what you’ve done. Faggot. Fuck up. Disgusting. Steve never loved you. Look how much you are hurting him. You don’t deserve the attention and love of anyone. You don’t deserve happiness._

Everyone would be happier if he killed himself. 

Bucky can’t breathe. 

“Did I make him feel like that?” Steve’s voice is weak. 

He can’t breathe! Why can’t he breathe? 

He feels trapped. 

_Pathetic._

“Oh God no Steve,” Natalia says. “It’s not your fault. It’s not. Bucky-Bucky is in a really rough place right now, and I don’t think any of us fully understand what he is going through right now. But that _is not_ your fault. You hear me? It is not your fault. You were and still are an amazing support for Bucky, whether you realize it or not. It is not your fault he is feeling like this.” 

Bucky can’t breathe. It feels like his mouth is glued shut. He needs to leave. He needs to escape. _Escape. Escape. ESCAPE. YOU’RE IN DANGER. DANGER. DANGER._ His legs move before he is processing what he is doing. He just needs to get out. He just needs to be safe. He’s so scared. Why is he scared? 

_You’re a terrible boyfriend. Steve doesn’t love you. Steve has never loved you._

Bucky slams the door to his room, the thundering sound it makes ringing throughout the hallway. His entire body is vibrating. He can’t see anything. Everything is blurred together. His knees finally hit the bed, and he collapses. He’s sobbing. He can’t breathe. 

He can’t breathe. 

_In and out._

It sounds like Steve. 

_In and out Buck._

_Just like that._

_You’re doing so good._

He slows his breathing down bit by bit. 

_I’m proud of you baby._

_You’re doing good._

_So good._

_You’re doing good Buck. You’re going to be alright._

_Keep breathing._

_That’s it._

Bucky is rocking back and forth. 

_Keep breathing._

_You’re doing so good._

_Everything’s going to be okay._

_I’ve got you._

_I’m not leaving you._

Bucky clings to the nearest thing he can hold. 

Steve. 

Steve. 

“Steve,” Bucky cries. 

“I’ve got you, baby. You’re going to be okay,” Steve holds Bucky tight. Bucky can feel the wetness of Steve’s tears on his shirt. He doesn’t care. Steve is here. With him. _Holding_ him. Steve doesn’t hate him. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, _I’m sorry,_ ” Bucky mumbles into Steve’s shirt. 

“You’ve got nothing to be sorry about Bucky,” Steve runs his fingers through Bucky’s hair. Bucky’s eyes start focussing back on the blue cotton of Steve’s shirt. It feels smooth between his fingers. He’s calmed his breathing down, hands still shaking. His head is pounding. 

He peels himself away from Steve slowly, just moving his head to look around the room. Bruce is sitting on the couch across the bed. Natalia is standing in the doorway to the bathroom, fists clenched and concern written across her face. Clint is tapping his foot in a steady rhythm, eyes trained to the ground. Stark’s standing in the doorway to the room, dried tears tracked down his cheeks. 

Bucky looks down immediately. _Don’t anger him, don’t anger him, don’t anger THEM, don’t anger THEM._ He buries himself into Steve’s chest. The smell of Steve’s cologne surrounds him. 

“Hey, guys, let’s give them a little privacy,” Bruce motions for everyone to leave the room. Bucky waits until he hears the doors close to pull away from Steve. 

“I’m sorry,” he says softly. 

“Bucky,” Steve says firmly, leaning back to look at Bucky. “You have _nothing_ to be sorry for. _I_ am so sorry I didn’t catch the signs earlier. _God_ , I could have saved you so much pain if I had just realized what you were going through. I’m so sorry Bucky.” 

“It’s not your fault Steve. I’m the one who did it. You didn’t have control over me.” 

“No, but I should have noticed earlier. I shouldn’t have been so mean to you and kicked you out like that. That’s my fault.” 

“No it’s not. I burdened you. I get it. I wouldn’t want me around either. It’s okay though. You don’t have to take me back or anything. I know you went on a date with a cute” _much more attractive than you will ever be_ “boy.” I’m sure you two will be happy together.” Bucky looks into Steve’s eyes. 

“A cute boy? A _date_? What are you talking about Bucky? _A date? What_?” 

“The-the date you went on a few days ago,” Bucky shrinks in on himself. “You know. You guys went to a bar together. And had drinks. It looked like you were having a nice time.” Steve throws his head back, scaring Bucky as he let out a bark of laughter. 

“No, no Buck. God _no,_ ” Steve shakes his head, a tear running down his cheek. “That was Peggy’s grandson. He reached out to me last week and I invited him out to catch up over drinks. God Buck. Did you really think I would replace you like that?” Bucky shrugs. _He’s just saying that. He doesn’t actually believe anything he tells you. He just pities you._

“Bucky, I need you to talk to someone about what’s going on. It doesn’t have to be me. It could be Bruce or Natasha or even a therapist. But I need you to tell someone,” Steve says. “I’m so worried about you,” he adds on quietly. 

“I’m sorry Steve.” Bucky watches as Steve opens his mouth and starts to say something. “No. Please hear me out. I-I know how much I was burdening you. I ruined our relationship. I get it. I know you only took pity on me. You don’t have to keep pretending that you care. Really.” 

“ _Bucky._ I loved you. I _still_ love you. You have never and will never be a burden to me. What do I have to do to get that across to you?” Steve pleads. Bucky says nothing and looks down at his hands. They are shaking badly. “I love you so much Bucky. You are the love of my life, not just some obstacle I have to put up with. _Please_. What do I have to say or do to get that across to you?” 

“You don’t need to do _anything_. I’m _fine_ ,” Bucky manages weakly. 

“Bucky I can _see_ that you aren’t okay. _Please._ How can I help you?” Steve is crying now. Bucky’s body is shaking. He can’t breathe. _Steve doesn’t fucking care about you._ “I care about you so much. I just want to help.” 

_Steve hates you. He has never loved you. He hates that he has to take care of such a fat ugly burden. He hates that he has to be around you all the time. You should’ve just stayed with HYDRA. Maybe then you would be useful. Instead you’re just a fat piece of lard that is incapable of doing anything right. Disgusting. You’re useless. If you killed yourself no one would miss you._

“I want to kill myself!” Bucky cries out. He covers his mouth with his hand. He lets out a sob. He’s shaking so bad right now. 

_WHY WOULD YOU SAY THAT?_

_WHY WOULD YOU SAY THAT?_

_FUCK UP!_

_WHY WOULD YOU SAY THAT?_

_YOU DON’T DESERVE LOVE._

_FAT!_

_UGLY!_

_DISGUSTING!_

_WORTHLESS!_

_BURDEN!_

Bucky’s sobs are harsh. His body shakes with each one. Steve just pulls him tighter to his body, wrapping his arms around the shaking man. Steve is rocking them back and forth whispering soft words as his runs his fingers through Bucky’s tangled hair. 

Bucky digs his fingers into the stitches. It burns beneath his fingers. He can feel the blood running underneath his sweatpant leg. _You deserve this._

“Stop baby,” Steve says. He sounds _wrecked_ as he pulls Bucky’s hand away from his thigh. 

“No, no, _no_ , I deserve it. I deserve it Stevie. _Please,_ ” Bucky begs. Steve just shakes his head and cries into Bucky’s hair. He keeps rocking them back and forth, trying to keep his breath calm. 

“I love you baby. So much. We’re going to get through this, okay? I’m not leaving your side.” 

Bucky just cries harder.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok so please tell me what you think? because i kinda hated it? but like yall seem to really like this story?
> 
> please comment any idea/suggestions you have in the comments down below. it may not seem like it but it makes me so happy to think that people are enjoying my story and even the smallest of suggestions i try to work into the story somehow. this story is no where near done so if you want to see something i can totally try and work it in!
> 
> your comments and kudos mean the world to me.
> 
> stay safe loves. go drink some water. go outside and feel the sun on your skin for a few minutes. go get up and use the bathroom. shower if you haven't in a while. you matter so much. i love every single one of you so much and i am here for every single one of you <3


	11. talk to me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky tells Bruce and Steve everything.
> 
>  
> 
> Well, almost everything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey yo whats up!  
> anyways this is the chapter 11 that was originally posted! i had gotten some confusion from new readers and wanted to work it back into the story as i think it is a pretty powerful chapter (? maybe idk i like it).
> 
> tw for mentions of abuse, self-hatred, and self-harm.
> 
> please don't read this if you don't feel comfortable. this story will be here when you are feeling better, i promise. your mental health matters more than some stupid ao3 fanfiction <3

“Bucky, I think you should try to talk to me or Bruce or someone about this.” Steve’s chest rumbles softly under Bucky’s head. “I-I just don’t think it’s healthy to hold this all in.” Bucky shrugs, snuggling his head closer to Steve’s chest to listen to his heartbeat. Bucky evens his breathing out to match Steve’s, slow and steady. 

“‘Dunno,” Bucky mumbles. He brings his hand up to play with the hem of Steve’s shirt. He can feel the pull of the stitches every time he flexes his leg, a constant reminder of how much pain he has caused Steve. 

“You don’t have to. I’m worried about you, that’s all.” 

Bucky doesn’t say anything, choosing to listen to Steve’s steady heartbeat instead. His brain is moving a mile a minute, and Bucky can barely keep up with it. 

“‘M scared,” Bucky says finally. His voice is timid and quiet, not unlike that of a small child. 

“Of what?” Steve sits up to look at Bucky, features laced with worry. 

“I don’t know.” 

“Baby, if something is worrying you, you can always talk to me, you know?” 

“Yeah.” Bucky sighs. “It’s-it’s just that I don’t want to bother you guys. I know that I do bother you both, and I don’t want to put more on your shoulders by-by forcing my problems on you.” Bucky sniffled, looking at the bedspread. He traces the plaid pattern with his fingers, dancing from line to line. 

“Hey Bucky, can I ask you a question?” 

“Uh-sure-I guess.” 

“Did I bother you when I was ninety pounds and looked like a fucking string bean? Did I bother you when I would get sick and be bedridden every other week? Did I bother you when I would get so cold in the winter that our only option was to huddle together for warmth because my fingers and toes would turn blue?” 

“No Steve! You never bothered me!” Bucky pulls himself up on his forearms. 

“Then why would you be bothering me?” 

“Because it’s all my fault!” 

“No, it’s not,” Steve says softly. “Bucky you went something more traumatic than any of us can even begin to fathom, even Natasha. That’s not your fault.” Steve shakes his head. “I just don’t know how to get you to believe me. I love you so much and just want you to be happy. You’re not burdening me or Bruce by venting to us or by talking to us. _We_ love you so much and just want you to be happy.” Steve kisses the top of Bucky’s head. 

“Promise?” Steve lets out a small whimper at how beaten Bucky sounds. 

“I promise baby.” \---- 

“I guess I should start from the beginning,” Bucky says softly, pulling the blanket around himself tighter. Bruce sits in front of him expectantly, glasses sitting haphazardly on the bridge of his nose. Steve sits next to him, their fingers laced together. 

“I don’t remember much after I fell off the train.” Steve cringes next to him, pulling Bucky in closer. “I just remember being-being in a lot of pain. Everything hurt. Everything still hurts. I remember them experimenting a lot. I was poked and prodded in every way and place imaginable, and it was terrible. Every month they were injecting something new into my body, seeing how I would react. 

“It took them half a decade to perfect the super-soldier serum--or at least perfect it as much as they could. They had me in cryo for a lot of that, and they would pull me out frequently to mess with my brain. Between that and the serum, they had the perfect soldier in under a decade.” Bucky shifts around in his spot, mindful of Bruce’s gaze bearing down on him. He takes a few deep breaths. _Pathetic. You can’t even fucking talk about this shit. You weren’t the perfect soldier. You weren’t good enough. You’ll never be good en-_

“Bucky, you don’t have to tell us anything. If you are uncomfortable, please say so,” Bruce says, looking into Bucky’s eyes. Steve squeezes Bucky’s side in affirmation. 

“No-no it’s fine. You guys deserve to know. They made me do their dirty work. Everyone HYDRA viewed as a threat, they-they made me-uh-they made me kill them. I remember every single person I’ve killed. Every. Single. One. And sometimes-sometimes they would make me kill them in-in barbaric ways. They once gave me orders to pull apart each bone in a man's body until he had no arms or legs, and only then would I be allowed to properly kill them. And-and if I didn’t, they-they would _hurt_ me. They could get away with doing a lot, and it would never actually damage me because of the accelerated healing I have. Sometimes they would beat me with-with batons until I was laying on the floor and couldn’t move. Sometimes they would dislocate my shoulder and knees while they were wiping me. It was always so much. I guess-I guess I just got used to having that pain. And-and sometimes-sometimes I still crave it. Like in this weird, distorted way. I just feel like I need it or deserve it.” 

Bucky shuts his mouth quickly, drawing his knees up to his chest. His body is shaking as he bites his lip, trying to hold back tears. Steve buries his head in Bucky’s shoulder. 

Bucky shudders. 

“I feel like I was thrust into this new world where I don’t understand anything, and I’ve just been expected to _deal_ with it! And sometimes, sometimes I just wish I was back with HYDRA, because at least when I was under their control, everything _made sense_!” 

Steve sobs into Bucky’s neck. Bucky is hyper-aware of the wet streaks running down his neck, feeling Steve’s hot breath against the back of his neck. _You did this to him. You ruined him. Fuck-up. You’ve hurt him so much. He hates you. He never wants to be around you. You just make him feel terrible. He wishes he had never dated you. He wishes he never knew you._

“And-and I have to deal with this stupid fucking voice in my head that keeps telling me I’m worthless and that everything would be better if I just wasn’t alive, and sometimes-sometimes I believe it, and I feel _so_ guilty all the time, and I just don’t know how to deal with it!” Bucky cries. Steve pulls him in tighter, holding Bucky square to his chest. Bucky cries, trying to match his breathing to Steve’s heartbeat. 

“Thank you, Bucky, thank you so much,” Steve mumbles into his hair. 

“Bucky, I’m so proud of you,” Bruce says, pulling Bucky’s hands into his own. “Thank you so much for telling me this.” Bruce squeezes Bucky’s hands once, twice, and then drops them. Bucky focuses on Steve breathing behind him, the feeling of his chest rhythmically pushing against his back. Bruce stands up. “Why don’t I go make us some tea, okay?” 

Bucky nods softly, watching Bruce leave the room. The second the door closes, Bucky breaks. He turns around and buries his head in Steve’s chest, sobbing violently. 

“I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry _I’m sorry I’msorryI’msorry-_ ” Bucky repeats, not able to catch his breath. 

“No, no Bucky. You have nothing to be sorry about,” Steve says, voice broken as he cries. “I love you so much. I’m so proud of you. You are doing so good baby.” Steve cradles Bucky’s head to his chest, rocking them both back and forth. “Thank you so much for telling me this. It means so much to me. I love you. I’m so proud of you.” 

Bucky feels the wet fabric of Steve’s shirt against his cheek, but can’t bring himself to care. Steve loves him. Steve _loves_ him. 

_Steve doesn’t love you. Steve has never loved you. How could anyone-_

_Shut up,_ Bucky tells that part of his brain. 

And, for the first time, it does

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you all for sticking with me through all of this confusion. i know i am messing a lot with the chapters and that can be vv confusing for everyone involved, so i just wanted to say a really big thank you to everyone for sticking with me and supporting me. every single comment means so much to me. i really cannot put into words how much i care for you all. <3
> 
> come check me out on tumblr! my user is @anyabarnes and i am totally open to prompts, asks, and anything! my inbox is always open if anyone wants to vent, talk, or just needs a friend. and trust me, u are not burdening me by talking to me <3
> 
> take care of yourself please! go get a snack if you haven't eaten anything yet, take your meds, and pick up a few things around your room <3 you matter and are loved so very much!


	12. honey and granola

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky really, really did not want the honey or granola

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank u all for sticking with me through all of this chapter confusion <3 i promise i am working it out! in the mean time, please do and read chapter 11! i added changes to it and improved it over all! i would love to hear your feedback!
> 
> tw for eating disorders and lots of negative thought
> 
> stay safe. this chapter focuses in a lot on the eating disorder front of things so like,,,, please dont read this if it is going to trigger you <3

Any progress is still progress. 

Bucky _knows_ this. 

But, standing on the scale and waiting for the numbers to load, he can’t help but feel guilty. 

He _had_ made progress. He’d talked to Steve and Bruce about how he was feeling, he had started seeing a new therapist, and he even started taking a drug Bruce engineered to work with his enhanced metabolism. 

It helped. Talking to Bruce and Steve had taken so much off of his shoulders and had made him feel like he had a place and people to talk to if he ever needed. Even if Steve and Bruce both now mother-henned him, it was nice to have had someone to listen. What he neglected to tell them was anything about his _weight issues_. He _needs_ to loose the weight, no matter what, and he _cannot_ burden them with his silly little insecurity. 

The scale blinks. 

_One._

_Two._

_Three._

238.5. Minus 15 for the arm. _223.5._

 _Still too fat._

He sighs, stepping off the scale. _You’ve only lost twenty pounds? Pathetic. Steve will never want you while you are still fat. If he even wants you back. Stupid. Look at you, pretending Steve could ever love someone as unattractive as you are. Disgusting._

Bucky bends down, grabbing the scale and trying not to focus on how his stomach rolls and presses against itself. _How did you let yourself get this way?_

 _Disgusting._

He can’t help but look at himself in the mirror. His hips look miles wide. Bucky shivers, pulling his sweatshirt back over his head. He tugs on his sweatpants, following them with a pair of fuzzy socks. 

He’s still cold. 

He’s always cold. 

A sharp knock on the door scares him. 

“Hey Bucky,” Steve calls. “I’m back from my run. Wanna get breakfast together?” Bucky cringes. _You should have joined Steve for a run. You don’t deserve breakfast when you haven’t worked out in forever. Maybe if you actually took care of your body and put effort into trying to look good, well maybe just then people would actually want to be around you. No one wants to be around a slob._

“Bucky? You in there?” 

“Yeah,” Bucky mutters. 

He turns around in the mirror. He glares at his reflection. Fat. All he can see is the pounds and pounds of fat that sit on every single inch of his body. _If only you weren’t disgusting. If only you actually mattered. Faggot._

“Bucky?” 

“ _What_ Steve?” Bucky said sharply. He huffs, staring at himself in the mirror. 

“Oh, sorry-I-uh-I just wanted to see if you wanted to grab breakfast with me,” Steve stumbles through his words. “But if you don’t want to that’s fine-yeah, no big deal.” _Fuck you upset him you fuck-up bad bad bad bad-_

“Wait, Steve, I’m sorry. I-uh would love to go to breakfast with you,” Bucky says. _Stupid. You’re so fucking stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid. That’s all you are. Bad, bad, bad. You are_ useless. _Steve doesn’t want you. He’s never wanted you._ Bucky digs his nails into his palm. 

“Oh okay!” Bucky can practically hear the smile in his voice. “Well, I am ready to go whenever you are.” 

Bucky waited for Steve to walk away from the bathroom door. Why did he agree to breakfast? Fat. Now he has to eat something. He has no choice. There is no way he can get out of eating with Steve, not when Steve has been watching him so closely these past few days. _Fuck. Why did you do that? You’re such a fucking idiot. Now you are going to have to eat. And when you eat you gain weight. And then you’ll be fat._

Bucky digs his nails into his palm harder before leaving the bathroom. He’s still staying in the guest room, too scared to move back in with Steve. He knows the second he moves back in with Steve Steve will figure out _everything_. He can’t burden Steve like that. 

He can’t burden anyone like that. 

He dresses slowly, pulling on the thickest, warmest sweater his has. 

He has to pull his belt two holes tighter than normal. 

And, for some odd reason, he’s never felt happier. \- 

Bucky is terrified. 

He shields himself from Steve with the menu, pretending to look over all the different options. _Everything_ is full of disgusting, fatty calories. Bucky knows. There is a little number sitting next to the name of every single dish. He can’t eat half of these things. There are _so many calories._

Bucky scans over the menu for what feels like the hundredth time. 630. 1190. 820. 729. He can’t eat any of these things. It’s all too much. Too much. Too much. He can’t eat anything. _You aren’t allowed to eat anything._

_220_ for a greek yogurt parfait. 

Wait. 

He might be able to eat that. Maybe. If he gets the honey on the side and doesn’t eat the granola. _You are going to gain so much weight. You are going to get so so so fat. So fat. Steve won’t want you anymore. He won’t love you. You are going to get fat._

“What can I get for you two today?” Their waitress says, smiling at Steve. Steve smiles back. _She’s skinny, you know. Skinnier than you. He probably likes her more than you._

“I’ll have two orders of the breakfast platter and a glass of orange juice to drink, doll,” he says, smiling at her and handing her his menu. She blushes as she writes down his order. 

“Sure thing, Captain. And you?” She doesn’t even look up at him. Bucky’s hands are shaking so bad. _She is going to think you are so fat. She is going to laugh at you and then Steve will laugh at you and then everyone will laugh at you. You are disgusting._

“Can I-uh-get the greek yogurt parfait but with the-uh-honey and granola on the side?” Bucky says. He hands her his menu. She doesn’t say anything to him. She barely even glances at him. 

"How are you doing today, Bucky?" Steve asks softly, taking Bucky's hands in his. Steve looks in his eyes, and for a second, just one second, Bucky forgets how to breathe. 

"I'm-I'm doing meh, I guess. I feel really bad that I-uh-that I snapped at you this morning. And I-uh-I'm kinda beating myself up over it," Bucky says, looking down at the tablecloth. 

"Thank you for telling me, Buck. Is there anything I can do to help?" 

"Uh- can you just do what you are doing? Just like, be there for me?" Bucky cringes. _You sound so fucking stupid. He thinks you are so stupid, so so stupid._

"Of course baby," Steve smiles, bringing Bucky's hand up to his lips. Bucky blushes. 

No less than five minutes later, their food is delivered. The waitress places down Steve’s plates, winking at him, before halfheartedly shoving Bucky’s plate in front of him. 

“Does everything look good?” She says sweetly. It makes Bucky want to throw up. 

“Yeah, my food looks good. Bucky, how does yours look?” 

“Great,” she smiles. “Call me over if you need anything.” Steve shoots her a weird look as she walks away. 

Bucky picks up his spoon, hands shaky. _Oh fuck._

_Oh fuck._

_Oh fuck oh fuck ohfuck ohfuckohfuckohfuck-_

The granola and honey are still on it. Shit. _So many calories. You can’t eat that now. That’s going to make you so fat. So, so fat. You are disgusting. You are going to gain so much weight if you eat this. You can’t._

_Everyone is looking at you. They all think you are so fat. They are disgusted in you. They are all mocking you. Mocking the fact that Steve ever wanted to be with someone as disgusting as you. You are repulsive. You are a monstrosity. Steve would be better off without you._

“Bucky, are you sure that's going to be enough?” 

“Uh, yeah. I ate some breakfast before you got back from your run.” 

“Oh.” _He’s disgusted with you._ “Well, you can have some of my bacon if you want. I’m probably not going to eat all of it.” _See, he’s not eating all of his food. That means you shouldn’t eat all of your food either. You don’t need all of those calories, either. It will just make you fatter._

Bucky spends most of the meal pushing the granola off the top of his yogurt. He can’t eat any of it. If he eats the granola, he is going to gain weight, and if he gains weight, then Steve won’t want him anymore, and if Steve doesn’t want him anymore, he won’t be allowed to stay at the tower, and then he won’t have a home- 

“Oh shit,” Steve mutters, picking up his phone. “Hello? Yeah. I’m at breakfast. Who else is coming? When? _Now_? I told you guys I needed the next few weeks off-I understand. Yeah. I’ll be there in about ten.” Steve puts his head between his hands and groans. 

“What was that about?” Bucky asks. He pushes a glob of honey off of his yogurt. 

“They um-they want me out on a mission for the next couple weeks. I don’t really know what it’s about-they said something about illegal testing in Europe. But-uh-I have to leave like _now_. And I don’t know when I’m going to be back?” 

“Who all is going with you?” Bucky can’t breathe. He doesn’t know how long he can go without Steve. 

“Pretty much the whole team. I think Tony is staying behind, maybe Bruce-but I think they might need him for genetic analysis?-but other than that, they want us all.” Steve shook his head, reaching for his wallet. 

“Do they need me?” 

“No, baby.” 

“Why? If this is a HYDRA thing, which it sounds like it is, don’t you think I would be needed?” 

“Bucky-uh-right now you aren’t _stable_ enough to be doing missions with us. We can’t have someone who is at risk of hurting themselves on a mission. It endangers everyone.” 

“Oh.” _Stupid stupid stupid stupid stupid stupid-_

“Listen Bucky, I have to go. I love you a lot, okay? Call me if you need me or Natasha at _any_ point if you need to talk. I don't care what time of day or night it is, you hear me? I am always here for you,” Steve stands up, throwing down a wad of cash on the table. He leans over and kisses the top of Bucky’s head. “I love you.” 

“Love you too.” 

Bucky watches as Steve rushes out of the restaurant. 

He’s no longer hungry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i just wanna say thank u for sticking with me and supporting me! if u notice any inconsistencies or weird things feel free to point them out or just be like 'yo anya this doesn't work' 'or 'yo anya this would be better if u did xyz' (or, if u rlly wanna be anonymous, head over to my tumblr @anyabarnes and shoot me an anonymous ask just saying your thoughts!)
> 
> ik this chapter is a lil more boring but it is the set up for the time while steve is gone (aka bucky is going to freaking die time (not literally))
> 
> please leave me comments and kudos and talk to me! i lvoe hearing everyone's opinions and stuff!
> 
> also also! i got a tumblr! check it out @anyabarnes my ask box and pms are always open if u want to talk or just suggest a prompt!
> 
> i love you all! please try and get a drink of water and a healthy snack in your system today! try and change your bedsheets if u havent in a while! ik school starting can be rough but feel free to hit up my tumblr pms to talk to me if u need to!


	13. up arrow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky won't stop hitting that stupid arrow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey all!
> 
> pretty heavy chapters, so head the warnings:
> 
> tw eating disorder, negative self talk, binging
> 
> stay safe, my fic is not more important than ur health. if u feel like u can't read this right now, don't. it will always be here if u choose to pick it back up :)

It’s been two and a half weeks. Two and a half weeks without Steve. And two and a half weeks of radio silence. 

Bucky’s heard nothing from him. It’s been so hard. _Steve promised he would call you and he didn’t. It’s because he hates you. It’s because he doesn’t love you. He’s off in some European country having the time of his life with someone prettier and skinnier than you._

Bucky shivers, moving his legs faster. At least he’ll be skinny when Steve comes back. Not skinny enough. 

Bucky has eaten virtually nothing since Steve left. He’s spent every waking minute in the gym or lying passed out on Steve’s bed. 

The bed doesn’t even smell like Steve anymore. 

Bucky presses the up arrow on the treadmill, upping the speed by another mile per hour. His breath comes out in short pants, sweat decorating his forehead. He feels like he is going to pass out. 

He hits the up arrow again. 

_27 miles per hour? Pathetic. Steve can go 30 in his sleep. Press the arrow again. Faster. Go Faster fat-ass._

Bucky hits the up-arrow again, the treadmill speeding up beneath him. He grips the sides like they’re his only lifeline, and, at this point, they are. His feet pound again and again against the speeding rubber. He feels like he is going to pass out. 

_Weak. Hit the up arrow again. 29 miles per hour? Still too low. Maybe, just maybe, if you actually put any effort into your body, maybe you would be able to go faster. But no. You spent eleven months getting fat and now you have to pay for it. You have no one to blame except yourself._

Bucky grits his teeth and moves his legs faster, fast, he needs to go faster, _he needs to go faster, he needs to go faster, needs to go fast-_

Bucky’s legs fly out from under him. He slams back into the wall, hearing it crack before he falls down on the ground. Everything aches so much-so, _so much_ -and Bucky feels like he can’t breathe. His legs are numb. He can’t feel anything. He can’t, he can’t, _he can’t-_

Everything hurts so much. He grits his teeth and uses the wall to push himself up. His legs are shaking-or maybe it’s just his whole body-and his hands keep slipping down the wall. Finally, he’s able to stand, leaning his full body weight against the wall. 

He takes a few deep breaths in. 

_One._

_Two._

_Three._

Bucky pushes himself off the wall. He takes a step forward. 

He falls again. His legs collapse underneath his body, and he can’t pull the strength to lift himself back off the ground. 

He just lays there. 

Alone. 

_You deserve to be alone. You don’t deserve to be helped. Get back up, you lazy fuck-wad. You can’t even stand up, how will you be able to be a fucking useful member of the team? Or even a useful member of society? You’ll just be useless, sitting there taking up space and resources that other people deserve. Not you. You’re just a waste of space. A waste of life. You don’t deserve to be alive-_

“Sergeant Barnes, would you like me to contact Sir for assistance?” JARVIS’s voice rang out, bouncing around inside Bucky’s head. Bucky props himself up on his forearms. 

“No, no,” He grunts. “‘M fine. Just peachy.” Bucky takes a deep breath in and pushes himself so he’s sitting up. His entire body is screaming in pain. All he wants to do is fall back down and sleep. 

_You don’t deserve that._

“Sergeant, are you sure you don’t require assistance?” Bucky lets out a soft snort at the tone JARVIS has. 

“‘M _fine_.” 

Bucky stands up slowly, knees cracking and popping as he does. His entire body is stiff. He forces himself to move forward, gripping on to the handles of the treadmill. 

_You’re too_ fat _to get a break. More. Run more. You can rest when you’re thin._

Bucky lowers the speed a little (a lot) and climbs back on, trying to keep up with the rubber racing beneath his feet. He’s so lightheaded, he can barely breathe. His heart is pounding in his ears, so so loud. 

He falls. Again. 

_Fucking PATHETIC._

Bucky thinks he crying, he can’t really tell. He doesn’t have the energy to move. 

“Contacting Sir.” 

Bucky tries to protest, but he doesn’t think anything actually comes out. 

“Bucky? Are you okay? JARVIS said he thought you might be injured and I just wanna check that you are ok-” Stark turns the corner and stops talking. “Shit, Bucky, uh-ok- _fuck_ -okay Bucky I’m going to be right back okay? Just give me a second. JARVIS keep an eye on him for me?” 

JARVIS responds, and Stark turns the corner again. Bucky’s heart is beating fast ( _probably a little too fast_ , his brain tries to tell him; Bucky doesn’t listen, he needs to exercise more, more, _more_ ). He can still hear the treadmill going, and it’s _so loud._

_You need to get back on that fucking machine. You’re too fat to deserve rest._

Bucky digs his nails into his palms, his breathing not slowing down. 

“Ok Bucky.” Bucky flinches. He didn’t even hear Stark come in. _Pathetic. Worthless assassin. You’ll never amount to anything._ “Here, let me help you up.” 

Stark gently pulls Bucky up against the wall, adjusting his body so the weight is on his shoulders instead of his back. Bucky grunts out a ‘ _thank you_ ’ trying to focus on his breathing instead. 

“J, can you do a quick scan for me?” Stark says, getting up and turning the treadmill off. 

“Sergeant Barnes is showing signs of malnourishment, dehydration, and overexertion. His heartbeat is elevated past healthy levels. He appears to have pulled his soleus. I suggest he takes a break from exercising, get a good meal, and rest.” Stark hands Bucky a water bottle. Bucky takes a sip of it, his arms shaking. 

“Is this _gatorade?_ ” Bucky spits. 

“Yup. You need to get your electrolytes up.” 

_No no no no no no no no no-_ Gatorade has calories and sugar and he isn’t allowed to eat either of those. He can’t drink this. He doesn’t deserve this. He hasn’t eaten _anything_ today, and he can’t-he _won’t_ -mess that up. 

“Ok, we are gunna get you out of the gym and into your bed. Preferably with a nice, hot meal, and some ice packs. Or heating packs? Which one is it?” 

“WebMD suggests icing a pulled muscle,” JARVIS says. 

“ _WebMD_? Really JARVIS? What else, Bucky has liver cancer because his leg is sore? Is this where you get all your information? Whatever. That doesn’t matter right now. Here, Bucky,” Stark puts his arm around Bucky’s waist. “You and I are going to stand up at the same time, okay? I can’t lift all of you so I need you to contribute.” 

_He can’t lift all of you because you are fat. Fat fat fat fat fat fat fat. Gross, gross fat._

“Ready?” Bucky nods. “One, two, three-” 

Bucky stands up, leaning almost his entire body weight Stark. _You are so heavy. You’re going to crush him before you even get to the elevator. Murderer. You are a fucking murderer. Disgusting. No one ever wants a gross, fat murderer around. You are a disgrace. You’ve never been wanted and you’ll never be wanted-_

“Bucky? You there?” 

“Yeah-yeah sorry.” 

“Okay, we’re gunna start moving. I need you to step with me.” 

“No, no, _no_. I’m _fine_ , I don’t need your help,” Bucky pushes Stark away, taking slow steps. His breath is sharp and fast. His chest hurts so bad. 

“Buck, I don’t think that’s a smart idea.” 

“Don’t call me _Buck_. I am _fine_ , Stark.” Bucky wants to cry. He feels so terrible, inside and out. He walks towards the elevator, JARVIS opening the doors for him. Stark follows him into the elevator. 

“Dude, you’re clearly _not_ fine. Or is spending 39 hours a week in the gym ‘fine’? Is that what we’re calling it now?” 

39 hours? He had spent 39 hours in the gym? _You should be spending more. With those love handles, you really can’t afford to be skipping out on anything._

“Since when do you care about me, huh?” Bucky whips around. “I’m ‘back’ with Steve all of a sudden and you just decide you can be nice to me? What happened to me being just ‘subpar’? What happened to me not deserving to live in _your_ tower? What happened to me not being worth your time and energy, huh?” Bucky spits. He’s shaking now, and he doesn’t think it is all from exhaustion. 

“Bucky, I didn’t-” 

“Oh, you _didn’t_? You didn’t _what?_ You didn’t mean to tell me Steve didn’t want me? You didn’t mean to tell me I wasn’t worth it? _Hm_? Or was it something else? You didn’t mean to invite me in your tower? You didn’t mean to save me? You didn’t mean for me to _live_?” The elevator doors are open now, facing towards the common room. Bucky shivers, freezing. 

“Because guess what, Anthony? _I didn’t either,_ ” Bucky says. Stark stands still, eyes wide. 

Bucky turns around, stumbling out of the elevator. 

_Faggot._

_Fuck-up._

_Look what you've done now._

_Steve isn’t going to want you._

_Steve has never wanted you._

_You just yelled at his best friend._

_Do you really think he will want you now?_

_Fuck-up._

_Fuck-up._

_Fuck-up._

_FUCK-UP._

_FUCK-UP._

_FUCK-UP._

_You don’t deserve love._

_You don’t deserve help._

Bucky slams his body into Steve’s door, falling into the room. He slams it back closed, grabbing a pillow and _screaming_. His chest hurts so bad. 

He doesn’t deserve to be happy. 

He doesn’t deserve anything. 

\- 

It takes Bucky two and a half hours to calm himself down. Thirty-seven attempted calls to Steve. 

Steve didn’t answer a single one of them. 

It doesn’t bother Bucky, though ( _it does, it bothers him so much_ ). Steve has more important things in his life than Bucky. Bucky doesn’t matter. Bucky’s never mattered. 

Bucky leans down to pick up the pillows he threw off of the bed. He had completely ripped the room apart: pushing books off their shelves, pulling the bedding off, tearing clothes off their hangers. His hands are still shaky. 

He’s exhausted. His body is _heavy,_ every single limb weighing him down a thousand pounds. He pulls the duvet over the crumpled sheets. The blanket is so warm. And Bucky is so cold. He lets the soft fabric sit between his fingers for a minute, then two. 

It wouldn’t be the worst thing, Bucky thinks, if he took a break. Just a short break. Just a couple minutes. 

He slides underneath the covers, shivering. 

Within three minutes, he’s passed out under the blanket. 

\- 

When Bucky wakes up, the first thing he feels is _hunger._ Terrible, consuming _hunger_ , eating him from the inside out. 

He clammers out of bed, doubled over in pain. He’s so _hungry._

His stomach feels empty. 

_He_ feels empty. 

He _needs_ food. 

Bucky stumbles his way through the dark to the kitchen. He opens the fridge. There. 

A container of leftover pasta sits right in the middle of the shelf, almost entirely full. 

Bucky pulls it out of the fridge, tearing the lid off. He’s _so_ hungry. He shovels handful after handful of cold, slimy pasta into his mouth, barely even letting the pasta touch his tongue before he’s swallowed it. The noodles just slide down his throat, one after another. He shovels another handful into his mouth. 

The container is empty. 

He’s still hungry. 

A box of pizza lays on one of the bottom shelves, a cardboard box from one of the nicer pizza joints around the tower. 

Bucky rips open the box, forcing the first slice into his mouth. It’s cold and hard and disgusting, but Bucky couldn’t care less. He’s so hungry. 

He brings the next slice up to his mouth, then the next, then the next, and before he knows it, the empty cardboard box is sitting in his hands, grease stains decorating the bottom. 

He’s still hungry. 

Bucky barely registers as he opens up the freezer and pulls out a gallon of ice cream ( _Strawberry Oreo_ , Natalia’s favorite), and digs his fingers straight into the cold treat. He scoops handful after handful of freezing cold ice cream into his mouth, fingers scraping the bottom of the container. It’s all over his face, he can _feel_ it. The ice cream drips down onto his shirt-the same one he was working out in early in the day. 

He feels disgusting, but he’s still so hungry. 

He shoves another handful of ice cream into his mouth, shoving all of his fingers into his mouth. It’s so sweet, so sugary, so _good_. He’s so hungry. So, so, so _hungry-_

“Bucky?” 

Bucky looks up to meet Steve’s eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i hope u enjoyed this chapter! i had a lot of fun (is fun the right word for this fic? writing this!)
> 
> i started school a little while ago so updates are going to be shorter and longer apart
> 
> HOWEVER: if u want to talk to me at any time my tumblr is @anyabarnes (sorry idk how to link stuff on ao3 :p). my dms and asks r always open if u need to vent, talk, tell someone about ur day, if u want to make a new friend (hint hint wink wink i am always open for new friends) or if u want me to write a prompt for u!
> 
> stay safe everyone! please go get a drink of water, stretch ur legs, take a break from ur computer/phone. go to sleep if it is late at night! take a shower if u haven't, do some homework, or even just read a couple of pages of a book! u matter so much. i care for ever single one of u, even if u think i don't see ur comments, kudos, and bookmarks. i do <3


	14. tastes so sweet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky Barnes gets a hug.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow.  
> this is it. fourteen chapters. 30,000 words.  
> wow.
> 
> tw: eating disorders, negative self-talk
> 
> please don't read this if you aren't in the right mental state. this story will always be here, please come back when you are ready.

Dread fills Bucky’s stomach, making him fuller than any food ever could. Steve’s looking at him, horror written all over his face, mouth gaping open. Another drop of ice cream drips down his chin, _splat_ ing on the floor. Bucky’s breath comes out ragged, sticky half-melted ice cream clinging to the bag of his throat obstructing his breath. 

“Bucky? Are you okay?” 

All Bucky can do is look at Steve. His hands feel heavy, covered in the sweet, sugary syrup that seems to get heavier and heavier with each passing second. He feels disgusting-he _is_ disgusting. So, so gross. Covered in food and fat and sugar and everything he’s _not_ allowed to have, all Bucky can do it stand there, Steve’s eyes burning holes into his head. 

Bucky lets out an ugly sob. 

“ _Bucky?_ ’ Steve drops his stuff, still dressed in his uniform. “Bucky, you’re scaring me, baby.” Bucky stands there, unable to move. _Fat. Fat. Fat. Fat. Fat. Fat. Steve knows how fat you are. Steve knows how disgusting you are. Steve knows you’re gross. Steve knows how wrong you are. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Gross. Gross. Gross. Gross. Gross. Bad. Bad. Bad. Bad. Bad. You’re not good enough._

 _You’ve never been good enough._

Bucky’s knuckles are white; he’s gripping the counter so hard he’s scared it will break. He can’t hear anything over his own breathing and the sound of his heartbeat pounding in his head. He watches as Steve steps towards him, but he feels like he’s looking through one of those funhouse mirrors he and Steve used to mess around in at Coney Island. His legs are weak. He can’t feel his feet. 

“Bucky? _Bucky_ ?” Steve is holding him now. Bucky’s shaking. He doesn’t remember when he started; all he knows is how tightly Steve is holding him and how violently his hands are moving. Bucky can’t focus on anything. “Bucky, I’m calling an ambulance.” 

Bucky grips on to Steve’s uniform top, clutching around the hand-stitched star with ice-cream covered fingers. _No more, no more, no more, disgusting, disgusting, disgusting, so wrong, so wrong-_

Bucky throws up all over Steve’s combat boots. He heaves, over and over again, spewing vomit all over the hardwood floor. He can see the swirls of pink ice-cream mixing with the red of the pizza sauce and the chunks of unchewed pasta. Steve is rubbing his back, and Bucky tries to focus on his warm hand instead of his pounding headache or the disgusting smell burning his nose hairs. 

Bucky’s vision goes spotty. His head is spinning, and his eyes won’t focus on anything. He feels so disgusting, he is so disgusting, Steve is disgusted with him, he- 

\- 

_“-blood pressure . . . 60 over 38 . . . severe . . .in danger-”_

Bucky tries to roll over. 

_“scared- passed out . . . blood in his vomit . . . been going on for?”_

Everything _hurts._ He’s in so much pain. He just wants to go back to sleep. 

_“-treadmill . . . said he hasn’t . . . thirteen days . . . you left.”_

_“Thirteen? . . . so scared . . . Bruce . . . be okay?”_

Bucky’s limbs feel heavy. His brain keeps fuzzing out. He can’t focus on anything. 

_“-don’t know . . . has been going on for longer than we . . . 201.3 . . . not healthy . . . “_

_“. . . hospitalization? . . . wanna lose him, not again . . .”_

_“-won’t . . . promise, he will get better . . .”_

He can’t stay awake anymore. He’s too tired. 

So, so tired. 

\- 

Bucky wakes up to his head pounding. He hears a constant beep, beep, beep. He takes a deep breath, coughing. Something is in his nose. He wants it out, he wants it out. He claws at it uselessly, fingers scratching down his face. 

“Hey, hey, leave it,” someone says softly, pulling Bucky’s hands away from his face. They run their hands through his hair. Bucky opens his eyes, cringing at the light. It’s _bright_ . He can’t see anything. 

He tries to say something, but his throat hurts too much to actually do anything. He just croaks, blinking to adjust to the light. Someone is still petting through his hair. Bucky presses himself up into the hand and sighs. 

“Bucky? How are you?” Bucky opens his eyes to see Steve. Steve. _Holy shit._ Bucky pulls away from Steve, looking down. His face is burning a bright red. _He thinks you are disgusting. He hates you. He thinks you are gross and terrible and fat and he saw, he saw you eating all of that stuff. He saw you. He thinks you are disgusting. He hates you. He doesn’t want to be around you. He’s so embar-_

“Whatever you are thinking, _stop_ ,” Steve says softly. “I’m not mad at you. I’m just really, _really_ worried baby.” Bucky glances back up at Steve. His face is shiny with tear tracks, catching in the artificial light of the hospital room. 

“You didn’t answer any of my calls,” Bucky whispers. Steve makes a choked noise, petting the side of Bucky’s face. 

“I know. I’m so _so_ sorry Bucky,” Steve says. “I got an emergency message from-from Tony. He said he was really worried about you, and that-that he was scared you were going to hurt yourself.” Steve looks down, tracing patterns on the thin blanket. 

“I’m sorry.” 

“You have nothing to be sorry about, baby. I just-what’s going on with you? _Please_ talk to me baby,” Steve begs. He tilts Bucky’s head and locks eyes with him. Bucky looks down, face burning. 

“I-I’m fine, Steve.” 

“You’re _not._ I just want you to talk to me. _Please._ I’m so scared, baby.” Steve bites his lip. “I-I can’t lose you again.” Bucky starts bouncing his leg. His hands are shaking so bad, he feels like he’s going to throw up- 

“I can’t eat,” Bucky says. He sobs, clasping his hand over his mouth. _Why did you say that you fuck-up! Steve hates you, he doesn’t want to deal with your problems. He doesn’t want to deal with a fat fuck-up. He wants to leave you. He never wants to see you again. If you died he wouldn’t-_

“I just-I can’t. I know it’s so stupid, and I know I’m stupid for being like this, but-I just-I can’t.” Bucky cries, gritting his jaw. He looks down, feeling Steve’s eyes burn into the back of his head. “And I know it’s _stupid,_ I know-I just, I wanna be good enough for you. And-I can’t be good enough for you when I look like this.” 

“Bucky.” Steve sounds heartbroken. His hands tighten around Bucky’s, and Bucky can’t bring himself to look at Steve. “ _Bucky_ .” 

“I’m sorry- I shouldn’t-I shouldn’t have told you that. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” Bucky tries to push himself off of the bed. Steve pushes his shoulders back down. Bucky blinks back tears. 

“Hey, _no,_ ” Steve says softly. “I’m-I’m so happy you told me that. Really.” Steve looks down. “Bucky-you’ve always been good enough for me. I don’t _care_ what you look like, and I know you don’t believe me. I _know_ . I can see it on your face, Bucky. I just-I don’t know how to help.” 

Bucky is quiet. He traces patterns on the blanket, finger swirling in the soft cotton as he thinks. 

“I don’t know,” he finally says, his voice small. “Why are you still with me? I mean-I know I’m high maintenance-just, why?” His voice breaks. 

“Bucky. You’re the love of my life-why wouldn’t I stay with you?” Bucky shrugs. 

“Just-thank you, I guess.” 

“Baby.” Steve makes eye contact with Bucky. “You don’t need to thank me for being here for you. I’ll _always_ be here for you.” 

Bucky looks down, a soft smile on his lips. 

\- 

The second time Bucky wakes up it’s a lot less pleasant. Steve is gone, much to Bucky’s dismay, and in his place stands Bruce. Bucky clears his throat, and Bruce startles. 

“Hi, Bucky. How’ya feeling?” Bruce smiles, clipboard in hand. Bucky scowls, watching Bruce adjust some of the machines Bucky’s attached to. Bucky fidgets with the thing up his nose. He just grunts in response. 

_You’re being annoying. You fat, stupid bitch. How is anyone going to want to be around you if you can’t even hold a simple conversation? Stupid. Bruce doesn’t want to help you. He’s doing this because he pities you. No one actually wants to be around a fat, ugly piece of shit like you. Pathetic._

Bucky cringes, looking up at the ceiling. Bruce moves around quietly next to him, eventually sitting down in the chair right off of the side of Bucky’s bed. 

“What is this?” Bucky asks softly, tugging on the tube, feeling it _pull_ in his body. It’s taped to the side of his face, attached to a machine next to him. 

“It’s a nasogastric tube,” Bruce says simply, writing something down on a clipboard. 

“And care to share what that is?” 

“It’s a feeding tube.” Bruce stares at Bucky. Bucky’s heart drops. _No, no, no, no, no, no-_

“Get. It. Out. Of. Me,” Bucky growls. He rips the piece of tape off, pulling on the tube. It doesn’t budge. “I want this out of me!” 

“No,” Bruce says, pulling Bucky’s hands away from his face. “You need it.” 

“I really _don’t,_ but thank you for your input.” 

“Bucky.” Bruce turns around to look at Bucky. “ You weigh 50 pounds less than you did a month and a half ago. That’s _not healthy_ . Clearly something is going on, whether you admit to it or not.” Bucky grits his teeth. 

“I’m fine,” Bucky spits. 

“Oh, you’re fine, huh?” Bucky doesn’t ever think he’s seen Bruce this upset. “Is fine spending 9 hours a day running on the treadmill? Is fine eating less than 1000 calories over the course of two weeks? Is fine having your _boyfriend_ pick up the phone to an emergency call from Tony talking about how incredibly worried he is about you? Is fine throwing up _blood_ after eating 2000 calories in one sitting?” Bruce looks like he’s about to cry. 

“You’re not _fine_ , Bucky. Stop lying,” Bruce says, voice cracking. He shoves his glasses on, turning around to mess with the machines Bucky’s attached to. Bucky looks down. “I’m surprised you're not _dead._ ” 

“Why do you even care so much?” Bucky’s voice is small. 

“Why do I care so much?” Bruce is crying. “I care because I _love_ you Bucky. I care because I don’t know what I would do without you here to make stupid jokes, or to recommend me old books and movies. I care because you matter to me so much, Bucky.” 

Bucky looks down. _He’s lying to you. He’s just saying that because he pities you. Why would anyone actually love you?_ He fidgets with the end of the blanket, pulling at the strings. His hands are shaking _bad._

His hands haven’t stopped shaking in a while. 

“Listen Bucky, I have to go plug this information in and talk to Tony. Call if you need me. JARVIS will alert me if you do.” Bruce smiles tightly, sniffling. “I love you, Bucky. Really.” 

He’s gone. 

Bucky takes a deep breath. 

Then the dam breaks. And he sobs. 

\- 

“Bucky, we need your verbal confirmation that you are agreeing to this,” Bruce says softly. Steve looks up at Bucky expectantly. 

Bucky glances down, thinking. Bruce and Steve agreed to let him go through outpatient treatment, but only under a strict set of rules controlling every part of his diet. Bucky cringes, trying his best to remember them. _Bucky can’t go to the bathroom for 45 minutes after eating. Bucky always has to eat without someone present. Bucky must have three meals a day, with six snacks in between meals. Bucky is not allowed to cut up his food smaller than the size of a dollar coin. Bucky cannot drink more than a glass of water with his meals. He is not allowed to be left alone with sharp objects. Bucky must have his hands above the table when he’s eating-_

“Uh-yeah, I guess,” Bucky mutters. His head hurts just thinking about all the rules. _They’re going to make you fat. Steve won’t stay with you once you’ve gained weight. He thinks you are disgusting. He thinks you are undesirable already. What’s going to happen when you gain 35 pounds?_

“Steve?” Bucky asks softly. Steve’s head perks up. “Will-will you-” Bucky grits his teeth. “Will you going to break up with me if I-if I gain the weight back?” 

“Oh, God no, doll,” Steve quickly reassures. Steve grabs Bucky’s hands. “No, I would never. I-I love you, no matter what you look like, okay?” Bucky nods. 

_He doesn’t like you. He’s just saying these things to make you feel better. He hates you. He pities you. He doesn’t actually want to be with you. The second you start to gain all that fat back again, Steve will leave. He doesn’t want to be with a gross, obese man. He wants to be with someone who’s attractive, not-_

Bucky shakes his head to clear those thoughts, smiling up at Steve. Steve smiles back, kissing Bucky’s hand. 

For once, Bucky doesn’t feel like Steve is lying to him. 

He feels so, so hopeful. 

\- 

That hopefulness is destroyed the second Steve puts a plate down in front of Bucky. It’s _filled_ with food, fat globs of butter and sauce _shlocked_ on top of mounds upon mounds of fatty meat, butter and garlic melted over sauteed potatoes. 

Bucky can’t breathe. 

It’s too much food, so much food, _too much, too much_ . He feels Steve’s eyes staring into his head as he picks up his fork. He takes a tiny bite of the potatoes, smiling at Steve as he chews. Bucky takes a sip of water. 

And spits the potato right back into the water. 

He smiles at Steve picking up his fork again. Bucky can see Steve’s shoulders drop, as though a huge weight has been taken off of him. _Fuck-up. You’re burdening him_ . Bucky takes a piece of the meat this time, chewing it them getting a drink. 

He spits the piece of meat too. 

Steve stops paying attention to how much Bucky is eating about half way into the meal. Steve trusts Bucky enough after the first ten bites, all of them sitting in the thick ceramic glass. 

Bucky knows he shouldn’t feel this proud of himself, but his does. 

He doesn’t expect it to come crashing down so soon, though. At the end of the meal, Bucky cleans the dishes, scooping out mounds of food from his cup into the trash. The noise of it hitting the bottom of the trash bag makes him cringe. _You wasted all that food. You’re disgusting. You don’t deserve food. You don’t deserve happiness._

Bucky feels a little less proud of himself as he cleans out the leftover food bits into the sink. They stick to the bottom of the sink, red and white chunks littering the other dishes. Bucky quickly cleans them up before joining Steve in the living room, hands shaking slightly. 

“I’m really proud of you, Bucky,” Steve says, kissing the side of Bucky’s head. “I know that must have been really difficult, but I’m so happy for you.” Steve smiles. 

The proudness Bucky had felt quickly turns to guilt. Bucky glances down, not able to look at Steve’s smile any longer. Guilt floods every square inch of his system. He feels so bad. He _lied_ to Steve. Steve, who has only ever tried to help him. Steve, who has been there for him for as long as Bucky can remember. 

“I-uh-I’m sorry.” Bucky bites his lip to stop from crying. Steve quirks his eyebrow, confused. 

“What are you sorry for, Bucky?” 

“I-I didn’t actually-uh-” Bucky rubs the back of his neck. “I didn’t actually eat any-any of it. I-I just spit it into my cup.” Bucky starts bouncing his leg. “I’m sorry.” Bucky can’t bring himself to watch Steve’s reaction, knowing that seeing Steve’s face drop will only make him feel worse about himself. 

_Stupid. Steve’s taking all this time out of his day to help you, and you can’t even get yourself together enough to be grateful for it. You’re wasting his time and eventually he won’t want to be around you. Ungrateful bitch._

Steve is quiet for a few more seconds, tapping his foot. 

“Thank you for telling me this, Bucky. I’m not mad at you, but I really want to know why-why you felt like you needed to do that. Do you think you could talk to me?” Steve says softly. He grabs Bucky’s hand. 

“I don’t know. It was just _too_ much food, and it was covered in butter and sauce, and it was so _gross_ . I just-I don’t want to be fat, and that food is going to make me fat!” Bucky cries. Steve shushes him. 

“I’m really proud of you for talking to me, okay? But we need to fix this. Do you think you could talk to both me and Bruce about how you are feeling?” Bucky nods, wiping his eyes. 

At the end of the night, Bucky has two new rules. 

_Bucky is not allowed to have an opaque glass. Bucky is not allowed to do the dishes alone._

Even though he has these new rules, he feels good. 

He feels loved. 

\- 

Dinners don’t get easy, per se, but they do get _easier_ . Steve and Bruce watch over him obsessively now, but it makes Bucky feel better in a twisted way. It feels good to _know_ that he’s not doing anything wrong. To know that there are people who care about him. 

That doesn’t mean that he doesn’t have bad days, though. 

Bucky can’t bring himself to eat. Not today. As Bruce places the plate of grilled chicken and salad in front of Bucky, he can’t bring himself to pick up the fork. There’s so much dressing, so much fat, so much _food. If you eat that you’ll become fat. And Steve doesn’t want a fat boyfriend._

Bucky doesn’t touch it. He pushes the salad around with his fork. Cutting up the chicken and mushing it to the bottom of the plate. He pushes the dressing off the edge of the plate, watching as it drips on to his napkin. Bucky grimaces, watching the salad smoosh together with the toppings. 

It’s disgusting. There’s no way he can eat it. 

“Bucky, you haven’t taken a single bite yet,” Bruce says calmly. “Please eat some of your salad.” Bucky scowls at him, pushing back from the table. 

“I’m not eating.” 

“Bucky,” Steve sounds hurt. Bucky doesn’t look at him, choosing to stare at the table cloth. 

“Bucky, you have to eat something,” Bruce explains. 

“I really actually _don’t._ ” Bucky snorts, rolling his eyes. 

“Don’t you want to get better?” Steve asks him softly. 

“Don’t _I_ want to get better? _Don’t I want to get better_ ? You guys are the ones who made this decision for me. I never _said_ I wanted to get better. I was perfectly _fine,_ then you two had to come along and fuck it all up. You ruined _everything_ . I fucking _hate_ you two,” Bucky spits. “If it weren’t for you, I would be _happy_ .” Steve makes a wounded noise. 

_Fuck-up. Fuck-up. What have you done. What have you done? You’ve ruined everything. You have ruined everything. They don’t want to help some little ungrateful bitch. They hate you. They spend all their time and energy on you and you can’t even have the decency to be grateful? You’re disgusting. You don’t deserve to get better._

Bucky can’t breathe. 

He can’t breathe. 

He’s so stupid. 

Why would they want to help him now? All he’s done is snap at them, when they have spent all their time and energy trying to help him. 

Bucky starts crying, _hard._ He’s so scared they are going to leave him now. He’ll be alone. He can’t be alone, not again. 

“I’m sorry, I’m _sorry,_ I’m so, _so sorry!_ ” Bucky cries, sliding out of his chair and onto the floor. “I’m sorry!” Steve immediately rushes to his side, kissing the top of Bucky’s head. 

“You’re ok, we aren’t mad at you baby,” Steve says softly. He laces his fingers through Bucky’s hair. “I love you Bucky. It’s okay. You’re allowed to be upset. No one’s mad at you.” 

“I-I-I didn’t mean’it!” Bucky cries. He burrows his face into Steve’s side. 

“I know, I know you didn’t mean it. It’s okay, let it out. No one’s mad at you, we love you baby.” Steve kisses the top of Bucky’s head again. “It’s okay, you’re allowed to cry.” 

Bucky sobs into Steve’s shirt. He cries and cries and _cries._

Oddly enough, he feels better than he has in a long, long time. 

\- 

Bucky stares in the mirror, his reflection staring back at him. His eyes gaze over his body. He lifts up his shirt, the outline of his ribs clear underneath the thin layer of skin. He takes a breath, watching as they become more and more prevalent, then disappear back under layers of fat. 

Fat. 

He can’t tell anymore-if he’s fat or if he’s thin. He can’t tell. It terrifies him to think that. To think that he can’t see his body the way he should. To think he won’t ever be able to eat food; every time he looks at something, all he can see is _fat_ and _calories_ and _sugar_ and himself, gaining pound after pound after pound after pound. To think that Steve had to deal with him-deal with _this._

Steve. 

Bucky is grateful for Steve-more grateful for Steve than he has ever been for anything else. Steve _loves_ him (Bucky thinks, there’s no way Steve would have stayed with him for as long as he has if he didn’t), Steve has been there for him-Steve _is_ there for him. 

Bucky couldn’t be more grateful. 

And it scares him. It honest to god scares him that he could die. But, at the same time, he feels like he couldn’t care less. 

Or could he? 

Dying would mean no more. No more Steve, no more kisses, no more hugs, nothing. 

Dying would mean no more walks in the park on hot summer days. It would mean no more running through the rain, just trying to get to the subway station before him and Steve got absolutely soaked. It would mean they would never get that dog they had talked about. No more late nights staying up talking about forgotten memories. It would mean no more cuddles, the covers heavy as they both listened to each other breathe. He wouldn’t be able to look at Stevie’s sketches anymore, no more watching Steve paint. No more listening to music while slow dancing with Steve in the kitchen, tripping over each other’s feet and sliding on the slick hardwood. No more no more n _o more-_

Bucky gasps, legs giving out from under him. He can’t die, he _can’t die, he can’t die._ His chest feels so tight, so, so tight. He can’t die. He can’t. Bucky scrambles for purchase on the tile floor. _He can’t die._ He can’t. He grips the counter, staring at himself. His hands shake violently. 

“I can’t die,” he says. “I _can’t_ .” He watches his reflection. _Holy shit._ He can’t breathe. His entire body feels like it’s been stuffed with cotton, every ounce of his being. He needs to live. He needs to _live._

_He needs to live._

He rushes out of the bathroom, door clanging against the wall. He needs to find Steve. He runs out into the living room, grabbing the back of the couch so he doesn’t fall over. 

“Steve, _Steve_ ,” Bucky says, out of breath. Steve looks up from his sketchbook, eyebrow quirked. 

“Bucky?” His voice is laced with concern. Bucky is shaking. 

“Steve,” Bucky says. “I need to get better.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you have stuck with me through all of this, i love you more than words can say.
> 
> this story has been a journey. i started it as a stupid vent fic and it turned into this.i've grown so much as a writer. i just wanna say i love every single one of you. thank you word reading this. and to anyone who could relate to this story in any way, you deserve so, so much better.
> 
> my tumblr is @anyabarnes. please talk to me if you need it. i am here for every single one of you.
> 
> i love you all. every single person who has ever clicked on this story. i love you.

**Author's Note:**

> uhhh so i'll try to update this when i get time. school is vv hectic rn and i am Going Through Things.  
> would y'all prefer longer updates that take more time or shorter updates that are more frequent?
> 
> love u all <3


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